The Wonderland Chronicles: Between The Pages
by PerfectDisaster22
Summary: Companion story to The Wonderland Chronicles series. A series of one-shots exploring character and relationship development in the time gaps between each book.
1. Fools and Follies

**Why This Story Is Necessary**: I was elbow-deep in my complete rewrite of _TWC3_ when I realized that I was in trouble. See, I skip large amounts of time in this trilogy [particularly between books]. And within those skipped time frames, there's a lot of character development that goes on. Because of my plot and the way I wanted to write this story, I didn't have the time to explore several ideas I'd come up with. I couldn't show certain moments of character development, I couldn't develop relationships like I wanted to, etc, because the trilogy's plot was already so defined and left very little time for meandering [which, considering that this is Wonderland and Wonderland is all about meandering, is rather ironic]. So, the idea for this companion story was born.

These one-shots aren't exactly connected to each other in a defined plot. Nor are any of them essential to the plot of the Trilogy Proper; there is no plot information in these one-shots that's utterly necessary to know in order to make the rest of the trilogy make sense. They're really more like missing moments- scenes of character/relationship development that didn't fit in the narrative of the trilogy, but ideas that I didn't want to give up on. So be prepared for these chapters to be on the short side.

**Author's Note**: This chapter came into existence relatively late in the writing process. It's actually the last of the five Book One chapters to be written. It wasn't until I was editing the tenth chapter of Book One that I realized that I needed to give Alice a place to air her thoughts. And when she did… well, it wasn't what I'd been expecting, let's put it that way. It gave me a lot of angst to work with; man I'm gonna have fun writing that into Book Two. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer**: The same basic disclaimers apply to this story as apply to the Trilogy Proper. I don't own anything you recognize, and anything that appears plagiarized from Disney, SyFy or other FFN fanfics is completely unintentional and accidental.

Minor note- the idea of the Suits is lifted from the SyFy _Alice_ miniseries. Funny, how the further into writing this trilogy I get, the more the SyFy movie starts to creep in.

**Special Thanks**: Thanks to my beta, Thirteen Thorns, for looking over this chapter for me! I get so incredibly paranoid about my characters taking a turn for the OOC. Particularly Alice. So thank you for reassuring me!

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><p>Once upon a time, a little girl named Alice had expressed her desire for a world of her own.<p>

_If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrariwise, what it wouldn't be, it would._

As she lay in her bed in the White Castle of Marmoreal, the Queen who had once been that little girl wondered what on earth she had been thinking.

It had been a week since the battle against Stayne on the Chessboard. One solid week since Alice had been rejected as Champion of Underland, replaced by a young Uplander with a mess of curls and wide green eyes, a girl who only days ago Alice had despised. Just the day before the battle, Alice had been furious with Underland for sending the young upstart here, to take over Alice's role as Champion and companion to the Hatter. She had resented Underland repeating Alice's history with a new savior, and had vowed to take her rightful place back.

She imagined Underland was howling with laughter about now.

For a solid week, Queen Alice had been bedridden in Marmoreal. Alice's sister-queen, Mirana, had been baffled by Alice's condition; true, Alice had hit her head rather hard during the earthquake Underland had caused to signal its rejection of Alice as Its Champion, but she had sustained no other injuries; she should have been up and about days ago. Yet, any time Alice left her bed, she was overcome with dizziness and weariness, and had to crawl right back under the covers to sleep for several hours. Mirana had finally proclaimed that, like her injury, Alice's illness must have been caused by Underland Itself, and the only course of action was to wait it out.

Privately, Alice believed that when she had hit her head, she had knocked loose a torrential downpour of Thoughts and Ideas that she had kept carefully dammed up for years. If that was the case, it stood to reason that she wouldn't recover from this strange, causeless illness until she had put her mind back to rights. Rather a tall order in Underland; after all, they were all Mad here.

Carefully, Alice hitched herself into a seated position, supporting herself with a good number of pillows. She hoped Underland wouldn't mind if she sat up while she Thought; she felt as though this process deserved her full attention, and she really did do her best Thinking while she was seated… preferably with a cup of tea in hand. Now there was an Idea…

Alice reached for the blue silk tasseled cord that hung beside her bed and pulled it twice. A moment later, the door opened to reveal Diaz, one of the Diamond Suits. While the Chess pieces served as soldiers, the Suits acted as the palace servants. A long, long time ago, Alice had once been served by the Clubs. She supposed those days were soon to come again… if she ever recovered from this illness, that was.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Diaz asked politely.  
>"I'd like some tea, please," Alice requested. "No food, just the tea, mind. The strongest brew Mirana will let me have."<br>"Yes, Queen Alice," Diaz nodded, issuing her a shallow bow before slipping out the door.

As she waited for Diaz to return, Alice closed her eyes, resting her chin on her hands as she considered what categories to sort her Thoughts into. Tarrant would have a large pile, obviously, as would Returning to Witzend and her Thoughts About Underland. But the largest pile of Thoughts, she knew, would belong to that ginger-haired Not Truly An Uplander who had consumed Alice's consciousness for the last several days. Or, more appropriately, the last eighteen years.

That the young girl who had been introduced to her as Jane was in truth the long-lost Azure Princess was by now embarrassingly obvious. From the top of her head (the color was purely Tarrant, the messy curls clearly Alice's) to her over-large green eyes (another gift of her father) to the dreamy expression (that had surely come from Alice) to the tips of her little feet (absolutely from Alice), it should have been obvious upon the first glance that here was the daughter of Tarrant and Alice Hightopp.

But if physically she was clearly Tarrant and Alice's child, in personality Alice was a bit baffled by this daughter of hers.

In the long years since Regina's disappearance, Alice had daily been consumed by Thoughts of her missing child. She had long ago Known what her daughter would be like upon her return. Her daughter would be fierce and determined and full of Muchness, carrying her father's Outlander spirit and her mother's sense of independence. She would be strong, a warrior and a Champion born.

She had had such beautiful dreams about the moment when her child was returned to her. They would embrace with laughter and many tears, and they would be a family again. Regina would have missed Alice as much as Alice had missed Regina, and the bond between them would be as strong as it had been in Regina's infancy.

Well, Alice had her daughter back now… But it was nothing like she had thought or planned for.

In the first place, Regina wasn't like Alice had thought she would be. Now, Alice realized that her child had been raised in the Aboveground, and she of all people knew that London was hardly friendly to Muchness. So perhaps it was natural that her daughter's natural Muchness would have been somewhat squashed by London Society, especially since Regina had apparently been raised by that most Muchness-squashing tyrant, Lady Ascot.

However, the Outlandish Champion Alice had been expecting simply did not exist. Regina had proved herself capable with a sword; according to Tarrant's glowing report she had done admirably in her battle against Stayne. But from what little Alice had seen of her child, both through the haze of the Mad Black Queen and now, Regina wasn't a warrior by inclination. She had her father's eccentric view of the world, and her mother's boundless imagination, but she lacked that Champion spark.

Was that such a bad thing, though, Alice asked herself? After all, no one had ever expected that the infant Azure Princess would ever need to be a fighter; Alice had already made Underland safe once. Perhaps it was only to be expected that the child of the Dreaming Queen and the Mad Hatter should be more a dreamer than a fighter… But the Dreamer and the Hatter were also both skilled warriors, deadly in battle. Regina had killed Stayne, yes, but was she a Champion?

Granted, Underland seemed to think she was; It had rejected Alice in favor of Regina on the battlefield, after all. And if Alice were being honest with herself, she probably hadn't seemed like much of a Champion when she first arrived in Underland, either, and she had managed to slay a Jabberwocky. Perhaps she was being too judgemental of her daughter; surely Underland knew what It was doing, if It had chosen her to fight for It.

Regina's dubiousness Championship aside, however, her homecoming was still nothing like Alice had thought it would be. Alice had always thought that when she found her daughter, it wouldn't matter what sorts of tricks Time had pulled; she would simply _Know_ her child. But… she hadn't. She hadn't had the faintest idea that the girl before her was the same infant Alice had once Lost. There had been no instant maternal bond, no indication at all that Alice was beholding her beloved child. As a matter of fact, instead of maternal love and pride, Alice had been filled with mistrust and jealousy upon beholding her successor and replacement. Without even realizing it, she had pushed her daughter away and forever ruined her chance of an instantly happy reunion.

Moreover, Regina appeared to have very little need of Alice. In the week since the battle against Stayne, Regina had visited Alice twice. Both visits had been very brief; Regina had only stayed for long enough to drink a cup of tea and perhaps eat a small scone before leaving again. She had been cordial and accommodating to Alice's illness… and she had been utterly distant and impersonal, as one would be to a stranger.

It was Regina's distance that hurt Alice most of all. Alice was well aware that Regina kept only her mother at arm's length; she was already clearly devoted to Tarrant. She wore her Hightopp Hat wherever she went, and the Suits reported that when the young Princess wasn't in lessons, she was in the workshop with Tarrant. She was even calling him by the extremely affectionate paternal term, _da_. Alice didn't even merit the formal _mathair_; Regina didn't call Alice anything at all, not even an English _ma'am_.

In truth, Alice supposed she deserved it. Perhaps it wasn't her fault that Regina had been spirited away to the Aboveground for safety, but because of that action, Regina had grown up without a mother. And in grey, Muchness-less London, to boot. Alice hadn't been there to tie ribbons in Regina's hair or to tell her bedtime stories; she had been absent when Regina needed to learn manners and she hadn't been there when Regina was presented to the _ton_. She hadn't been Regina's mother, and so perhaps she didn't deserve to be referred to as such.

But oh, how she wanted to be. That was what hurt above all else, the knowledge that Alice couldn't force Time to turn around. All those precious moments with Regina were lost forever; it was too late to begin again. And Alice and Regina both knew it, and Regina clearly resented Alice for it.

The problem was only compounded by the time that Regina had spent in Underland. Tarrant had been the one who had helped Regina; it had been he who had protected Regina, attempted to bring her to Marmoreal. Alice was well aware that Regina had only agreed to act as the Champion in order to find and rescue Tarrant; apparently, that inclination of Regina's was another gift from Alice. Tarrant had supported and aided Regina in every way he could. What had Alice done? She had raved and placed blame and pushed Regina away, dashing off to prove herself a Champion instead of helping her daughter. Alice hadn't even taught Regina how to weild a sword; she had left Kalen to do her job for her. It was no wonder Regina preferred Tarrant to Alice; he was clearly the better parent.

That had been the case even when Regina was an infant, Alice realized, chagrined. Alice had always been busy, meeting with suppliants or deliberating cases and laws. She had kept herself locked in her office, slaving away as the Queen of Witzend, while Tarrant had been the one taking care of their child. Alice had tried to be there when Regina needed to be fed or rocked to sleep, but Tarrant had had charge of her nearly all the rest of the time.

What a fool Alice had been. She had assumed that she had all the Time in the world; that there would be plenty of opportunities in the future to form a strong bond with her daughter. And now here she was, out of Time. Regina was a grown girl, nearly an adult. She was a Princess now, and a future Queen, and while she held great affection for her da, she clearly didn't need her mother now. Alice had once again lost her daughter, before she had even had the chance to celebrate finding her.

Faced with this knowledge, Alice lowered her head into her hands, and wept.


	2. Tea Time and Tete a Tetes

**Author's Note**: My favorite relationship in Book One of the Trilogy Proper is the one between Regina and Tarrant. They just clicked so completely and so perfectly. And, as several of my reviewers have pointed out, Regina ended up being quite similar to her da in many of her habits, quirks and the way she responds to things.

And yet, if you look back through Book One, they spend next to no time together. This is unfortunately true throughout the entire Trilogy Proper; because so much of the plot is focused on Regina growing up and heading towards her destiny, I have precious little free time to spend letting Regina and Tarrant simply be together and enjoying each others' company. And thus, this one-shot was born; I just gave them a room and let them play.

**Images**: These two inspired me so much, I even made them a banner. Remove all spaces.  
>http: www. polyvore. com/ cgi/ set? id= 36258009

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><p>Once upon a time, the workshop of the Sapphire King of Witzend had been a bustling, chaotic place. The entire western wall was covered by cubby holes, all stuffed full of fabrics. The eastern wall was also honeycombed with shelves, containing buttons, threads, scissors, thimbles, wires, feathers, precious gems, fabricated or real flowers. The southern wall wasn't a wall at all, but rather an enormous paneled window that looked out over the Cobalt Lake. The northern wall hosted a worktable covered in fabric scraps, quills, and dozens, perhaps hundreds, of sketches, currently hidden beneath a half-finished tea service. Close to the desk was an oversized fireplace, in front of which was a circular tea table and three comfortable armchairs, and an ornate, beautifully carved and canopied bassinette that could rock on its own and croon Outlandish lullabies to its precious cargo. Over the mantle hung a portrait of the Blue Royals, which had been recently retrieved from Marmoreal. Full-body dummies and innumerable head forms cluttered each corner and every available horizontal surface; precariously high piles of hatboxes dotted the room like so many stalagmites. A gigantic worktable dominated the center of the space, the desk nearly hidden beneath projects in various states of completion. Close to the work island was an elegant chaise longue, where customers could relax and watch the Hatter at work.<p>

In times gone by, the workshop had buzzed with the sounds of the Royal Hatter of Underland zipping about the room, snatching a fabric here, snickersnackering there, whipstitching and flourishing a new creation before flicking his wrist and Frisbee-ing the hat to a stand with perfect accuracy. But for many, many years, the workshop had remained locked and silent while its master had disappeared into the Tulgey Wood and the darkness of his own mind. The window had been covered by thick curtains, the fabrics had been left to fade and fray, and a thick coating of dust had settled over everything in the room.

Three days ago, for the first time in almost twenty years, the doors to the royal hatshop had been thrown open. The curtains had been pulled down, sheets removed from the large pieces of furniture. A small army of servitors, most of them Chipmunks, had been working around the clock under the close supervision of the Sapphire King, clearing away dust, discarding ruined fabric and reorganizing what was left. And now, finally, the Royal Hatter was back in business.

He knew he had to begin slowly; it had been a very long time since he actually applied his hands and mind to his trade, after all. His brain was rather rusty, and thinking up designs for hats took conscious effort now. The state of his hands wasn't even to be remarked upon; he had lost much of his dexterity, and he paid for it with pricks and snicks. And yet, Tarrant was content to be back in his workshop. It had been far too long…

Most of Tarrant's ease was probably due to the precious wee little boy curled up on the chaise longue, sipping a cup of tea and petting her Kitten while she listened to the creaking and crooning of her bassinette. He shouldn't be this content, he knew. After all, though his Alice was well enough to stand on her own two feet, she was still very weak and not-yet-herself, and any interaction between Alice and Regina was strained and cold. The kingdom was in a shambles from its rulers' eighteen-year-long absence. There would be months, even years, of hard work ahead while they attempted to reassemble their house of cards.

And yet, Tarrant found that he couldn't care about all those troubles, not when he was still reeling with the knowledge that his little princess had returned home at last. He had very much enjoyed becoming reacquainted with his little Sugar Cube; the young woman she had become was just as extraordinary as the baby she had been.

Regina had kept close to Tarrant's side ever since the night of the Announcement Ball in Marmoreal. She had told him that she felt overwhelmed by her new title and identity and the weight of her future responsibilities, and she'd really rather just focus on the fact that she had a da for right now, please. He had acquiesced readily; he was just as eager to convince himself that he was a da, that this girl was not just a Champion of Underland, but his daughter. They had had many tea-fueled conversations in the past few days, about everything and nothing all at once. Regina wanted to know everything about her homeland, and Tarrant was more than happy to oblige his little princess.

"Da?" Regina asked, looking down into her teacup.  
>"Yes, Sugar Cube?" Tarrant asked through a mouthful of pins as he turned a half-finished hat this way and that, his brows furrowed in concentration.<br>"How is it that… Mathair… is allowed to stay in Underland?"

Tarrant blinked, turning back to Regina. He hadn't missed the momentary hesitation, Regina's reluctance to allow her tongue to form the Outlandish word. The strained tension between Alice and Regina hurt Tarrant, in every possible way. Alice was his wife, the love of his life; to see her hurting and castigating herself sent flaming swords of hot pain straight through his heart. To know that Regina was the cause of Alice's remorse was bitter; to know that Alice had created Regina's anger and frustrated pain hurt him all over again. To further realize that he was helpless to protect, defend, or aid them was the bitterest pill of all to swallow. He had long made it his life's mission to be his family's Champion and defender; he hated to admit to himself that this was one hurt he couldn't heal. How he wanted to see his beloved wife and his precious daughter reconcile… But he wasn't mad enough to attempt to force them to sort out their differences. No, this was a situation which only Time could heal.

For all their sakes, Tarrant truly hoped that Time would remember how kindly he had always obliged Alice, and would forget about his long-standing feud with Tarrant.

"What do you mean?" Tarrant asked, trying to marshal his thoughts so that he could follow his daughter's conversation.  
>"She's an Abovegrounder," Regina replied, her brow furrowed in confusion. "And yet, she's never been called back to London. Why?"<br>"Oh," Tarrant said, his face clearing as he understood. "Your mam's been an Underlander for years, sweetling."  
>"You can become an Underlander? How?" Regina asked, tilting her head curiously.<br>"You give the land your blood, and you eat and drink our food," Tarrant replied easily, rhythmically folding and cutting a piece of purple silk patterned with flowers stitched in gold thread. "Your mam gave her blood before the Frabjous Day, when the Bandersnatch clawed her arm. That's the reason she was able to find her way home so easily when she came back to stay," he said, smiling at the memory. "She'd Bound herself to the land, without even knowing it."  
>"Do I need to do that?" she asked, biting her lip. "I don't want to go back Above."<p>

Tarrant paused, turning to look at his daughter. She looked back at him, her large eyes pale with worry as she bit her lip. In that moment, she looked like a frightened, lost little girl.

"Oh, Regina," Tarrant sighed, dropping the unfinished hat to rush to the chaise and pull her into his arms. "Sweetheart, you're not going to be taken away again. You're Underlandian by birth, you're not going to suddenly be sucked Above!"  
>"I was before," Regina mumbled, crawling into Tarrant's lap and tucking her head beneath his chin.<p>

Tarrant sighed, acknowledging the truth in that. Underland had decreed that Regina was in danger, and so she had been taken away from her home, left exiled alone in the Aboveground for eighteen long years. He couldn't imagine what it must have been like for her, being cut off from her family and her homeland. Would she ever forgive him, and Alice, for not finding her?

"I used to have dreams of you," he told her, resting his chin on the top of her head. "I would invent all kinds of daydreams about you… where you were in the Aboveground, what adventures you must be having. Never a day went by that I didn't think up some new adventure."  
>"Oh? What sorts of things did I do?" Regina asked.<br>"All sorts of things," Tarrant replied. "You would wander through gardens looking for blue flowers, and chase every butterfly you saw. When you got older, you'd dream up your own Wonderland, and everywhere you went you'd look for a door to get in. You became obsessed with hats, and you learned to dance, and sometimes you'd pretend you were dancing with me."  
>Regina stared at him, her eyes wide. "Those things did happen," she said, her voice filled with wonder. "All of them."<br>"How very curious!" Tarrant exclaimed. "I wonder how I could dream up your adventures for you!"  
>"Underland is like that," Witzend mewed, rubbing her face with one dainty paw. She blinked up at the humans, the beginning of a Cheshire grin stretching her mouth. "Did you really think Underland would allow Regina to be taken away without letting you watch her grow up?"<p>

Tarrant was silent, dumbstruck and filled with awe. And thankfulness; Fates, how grateful he was. To know that his wee little boy hadn't been totally alone after all, that he had been able to watch over her… it was a blessing.

"You humans," Witzend purred. "You never use your noses. Blind to everything you can't see."


	3. A Study

**Author's Note**: Spoiler alert- one of the plotlines in _TWC3_ centers around tea. By that point in the story, Regina is known to be as much a master of tea as her da is. But I never really showed how she got into studying tea. And then, once I realized that Regina needed to study tea, I asked myself why she needed to have a Study in the first place. I started thinking and was reminded of the scene in _Alice in Wonderland_, when Mirana's talking about Iracebeth, Dominion Over Living Things, and having something pressing on her brain. And POOF! Idea formed, one-shot ready for writing.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Regina's teapot: http:/ farm 5. static. flickr. com/ 4018/ 4706108727_ 1 e 2 f 0 f 3999. jpg

Regina's teacup: http:/ www. chinateapot. org/ wp- content/ uploads/ paragon % 20 fine % 20 bone % 20 china. jpg

**Name Note**: Passaridae is the scientific name for sparrows. I decided to have a sparrow instead of an owl [a bird more traditionally associated with learning and wisdom] purely because of the sparrow's connection with Johnny Depp.

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><p>Regina Miraget Hightopp's very first challenge as the Azure Princess of Witzend was rather unexpected.<p>

After the battle on the Chessboard, the Blue Royals had returned to Marmoreal with the White Queen. For two weeks, Tarrant and Regina had gotten reacquainted while they waited for Mirana to finish tending to Alice, who remained frail and easily exhausted. Once Mirana declared Alice fit to travel, the Blue Royals had repaired to Berserka, the capital city of Witzend.

Alice had retired to her bed again, and it was from her boudoir that she conducted state business. Her days were spent meeting with the ministers, appointed by the White Queen, who had run Witzend in Alice's absence. She passed laws and reinstated her authority and in general threw herself into the running of the kingdom.

Tarrant had thrown himself into his workshop, setting the tools and trappings of his trade back to rights. The Court of Spades had slowly begun to trickle back to the castle, and all of them were in need of hats. Tarrant was all too happy to provide them.

While Tarrant was bustling in his workshop and Alice was lounging in bed, Regina was being tortured.

It was her own fault, really. She had mentioned to Mirana that she would like to be educated in the history, politics, literature, culture, arts, law and philosophy of Underland, and Mirana had immediately searched Underland for appropriate tutors. Regina now spent every morning locked in the expansive library with Passaridae, a very knowledgeable- and absolutely tyrannical- Sparrow, wading through the intricate and archaic laws and policies of Witzend, while every afternoon she studied dancing, singing, painting and deportment from Duchess Blanche, a member of Mirana's court.

It was during her morning lessons with Passaridae that Regina was confronted with her first challenge as a royal princess.

"What will your Study be, your Highness?"  
>"Excuse me?" she blinked, frowning in confusion.<br>"A Study!" Passaridae twittered, rustling up his feathers. "Every proper Royal must have one!"  
>"What is a Study?" Regina asked, tilting her head. "And why <em>must<em> I have one?"  
>"Monarchs are Important Personages, your Highness," the Sparrow informed her. "With many weighty thoughts in their heads. If you don't have a Study to focus your thoughts on, your head might well explode from the pressure on your brain! Her Majesty the White Queen believes that the former Red Queen's failure to adhere to her Study is what caused her… err… cranial abnormality."<p>

Regina winced, reaching a hand up to feel her still-normal-sized head. The last thing she wanted was to become another Bluddy Behg Hid…

"What sort of thing should I Study?" she asked her tutor. "What about the rest of my family, what do they Study?"  
>"The White Queen Studied White Lies and Healing," Passaridae replied, his head cocking in thought. "The Blue Queen has made a Study of Persuasion. The Sapphire King has obviously chosen to Study Haberdashery. The Red Queen, for what it was worth, Studied Dominion Over Living Things."<br>"And Lily?" Regina asked. "What does the White Princess Study?"  
>"Shoes," the Sparrow stated. "Quite a lofty subject, and a difficult one to master."<br>Regina blinked, then giggled. "Shoes? Truly?"  
>"Shoes make the man, your Highness," Passaridae said solemnly. "Or the woman. You can never understand another person unless you've stepped into their shoes."<p>

Regina leaned back in her chair, removing her Hat from her head and thoughtfully twirling it around her finger, occasionally flipping or tossing it as she thought. Clearly, it was of the utmost importance to have a Study, but what subject could she possibly choose?

"How does one decide upon a subject to Study?" she asked her tutor, her eyes unfocused.  
>"Oh, in the usual way," the Sparrow chirped. "The Study usually chooses you."<p>

Ridiculous, unhelpful Underlander logic…

Long hours later, after Regina had retired to her rooms for the night, she had turned this Important Matter over in her mind, wondering. What sorts of things could a Study be? Healing, Persuasion, Haberdashery, Shoes… it seemed that one could make a Study of anything.

Very well then, what sorts of things did Regina do? There were her lessons with Passaridae and Duchess Blanche, but that could hardly count as a Study since she was already doing it. And besides, none of the other Royal Studies seemed to be overtly intellectual in nature, which she supposed made a backwards sort of sense since the purpose of a Study was to control one's Important Thoughts. She took long rides through the Tulgey Wood on her Panther Sora, she walked through the gardens of Marmoreal and Berserka, she danced…

There was potential in a Study of Dancing, she pondered. She did so love to dance… Humming a snatch of Schubert's _Swan Song_ to herself, Regina lifted onto her toes and began the steps of the lovely, lilting waltz, closing her eyes and smiling in pleasure. Yes, she could Study Dance; already she could feel her troubles floating away, her thoughts quieting as she lost herself to the music in her head.

"Princess?"

Regina opened her eyes reluctantly, glancing over her shoulder, though she smiled faintly when she saw Clover. Regina had become so attached to Clover and Azalea- and they to her- that Mirana had released them into her service when Regina left Marmoreal. Even though as the Azure Princess Regina was entitled to being served by an aristocratic retinue, in truth she preferred to only have Clover and Azalea hovering over her. She disliked being the center of so many people's attention, particularly when said people were by and large vapid, tittering girls who reminded her forcefully of her "cousin" Mary Ascot and her throng of admirers.

Shaking her head slightly, Regina refocused on Clover. In the maidservant's hands was a tea service for one- a blue porcelain teapot with designs that looked like intertwined branches of cherry blossoms, a wooden box of ingredients, and three choices of teacup.

"His Majesty asked me to send this to you, Princess," Clover stated. "He asked me to remind you not to stay up too late, you're going to review the Trading Field tomorrow and you'll be up early."  
>"Oh. Wonderful," Regina grinned. "Set it on the table for me?"<br>"Of course," Clover nodded. "I know you didn't go down to dinner tonight, have you eaten?"  
>"Mmm? No, not yet," Regina said airily, returning to her solitary waltzing.<br>Clover shook her head at the Princess' self-negligence. "I'll send to the kitchens for something."  
>"Thank you, Clover!" Regina called after her.<p>

Humming merrily to herself, Regina sashayed over to the tea table, drawing up her armchair and looking over the service. The hot water stood ready in the pot, but Clover hadn't mixed up the tea leaves yet. And thank goodness; Regina loved experimenting with Underlandian tea ingredients.

"Oh, let's see," she murmured, opening the wooden box that held the loose leaves, berries and powders. "Lemongrass, I think, and a petal or two of jasmine… And something earthy, to ground it. Umm… Tumtum bark, perhaps? Oh, I'm out of it. Pity. Planknut, then."

Deftly, Regina combined the ingredients in her tea ball, looking over her three choices of china cup with a critical eye before selecting the one that appeared closest to her mood- a delicate cup of white china edged in gold, with a whimsical floral pattern etched in purple. Still humming absently, she poured the hot water over the tea ball, grinning in delight as the tea turned lemony yellow with swirls of pink. She loved Underlandian tea…

Suddenly, she gasped, her head shooting up as she dropped her spoon in shock.

"Of course!" she exclaimed, before dashing out the door and running for her tutor's rooms.

Really, had there ever been any other option? Her parents had met at a Tea Party [twice]. Her father was known throughout two worlds as a master of tea. She had grown up addicted to tea; her foster father had raised her on some of the most delicious teas in the world. Whenever her emotions became ruffled in any way, positive or negative, she instantly craved tea. There could be no possible other Study for her.

And thus it was that the Azure Princess of Witzend began her Study of Tea.


	4. Getting to Know You

**Author's Note**: This one-shot was a bitch to write. I wanted it to go in one direction, and as usual Dafydd had other ideas. Ridiculous, stubborn Outlander… He stopped being fun when I discovered his emotional baggage [which you'll learn all about in Book Two].

The reason this one-shot had to be written is because at the end of Book One, we've got Dafydd and Ioan planning to use Regina as a blind while they prepare to invade Underland. And yet, those plans get changed in Book Two. I had never really explored the reason that Dafydd's plans changed… and thus, you get this one-shot.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Regina's nightrobe [but in sky blue]: http:/ www. bikudo. com/ photo_ stock/ 564417. jpg  
>Dafydd's outfit [minus the boots and hat]: http: img 2. prosperent. com/ images/ 250 x 250/ www. starcostumes. com/ prodimages/ RG 85220. jpg

Banner for this chapter: http:/ www. polyvore. com/ storm_ is_ brewing/ set? id= 37713875

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><p>In later years, they would blame a thunderstorm for changing everything.<p>

The past two months had been a period of getting used to each other, establishing boundaries and how this arrangement was going to work. Regina, having never shared a room with anyone or having had a bodyguard before, was a bit unnerved to always have someone underfoot, especially a great hulking silent shadow of an Outlander. Dafydd, having never been a female's full-time bodyguard, found that while he enjoyed not having to dance attendance upon the whims of a mad would-be King, it could be tedious following the young Princess wherever she went.

They had worked out a routine, the two of them. He knew that the best time for him to go check in with his men and train was during the mornings when Regina was in lessons. She'd learned that if she wanted to be alone, she just needed to go into her bedchamber. They didn't speak until Regina had had at least two cups of tea- Dafydd had learned that the hard way and dear Fates did she have good aim with spoons when the Madness took her. He wouldn't sleep until she did, and he always knew when she was faking slumber. It was a good routine, perfectly appropriate for their relationship of Princess and Protector… and utterly impersonal, as befit strangers. They had their routine, their system, but while their lives ran parallel, they never truly overlapped.

That all changed one angry, stormy night.

The skies had been threatening rain all day. The clouds had turned a dark, angry, swollen grey, and periodic rumbles of thunder had broken the eerie quiet. But no matter how Mirana beseeched the sky [at one point she even Demanded, by the Authority of her Crown], the clouds refused to let the rain loose. Day had darkened to night, but still the clouds hung heavy in the sky. The air was ionized with the promise of an absolute deluge, but there was no relief from the anticipation.

It was late when the Azure Princess breezed into her Marmoreal chambers. She had spent an unusually long period of time immersed in her lessons today; Passidarae had instructed her to study the myths, legends, and historical facts of the founding of Underland, and Regina had gone off on a tangent, comparing the Underlandian creation stories to those she remembered from the Aboveground. Someone- a curious Royal? another Uplander who'd fallen here?- had written a huge parchment scroll about the topic, and Regina had gotten so interested in it that she'd taken it out of the library with her when Passidarae finally hustled her out the door.

Regina was quite happily humming to herself, Clover helping her to undress as Azalea filled the bath with warm water. She was quite looking forward to a nice hot bath and a late tea before curling up in her sitting room with her scroll and Witzend. She barely paid attention when she heard the suite doors open; from the doorknobs' loud complaints of mistreatment she knew that it was just her bodyguard. Dafydd wasn't very fond of Regina's suite doorknobs; they were quite fond of locking him out [they were rather old-fashioned pieces, and didn't approve of a man being given access to an unmarried girl's private rooms].

"Princess?" he called.

Regina rolled her eyes in faint irritation. She wasn't very used to people calling her by her title; for that matter, she wasn't very used to people using her proper name. Eighteen years of being called Jane couldn't simply be forgotten in a few weeks' time, and sometimes she forgot that when people were asking for Princess Regina, they meant her. In what she considered a very clever idea, she had asked her bodyguards to simply call her Regina, so that she could get reacquainted with her name. Most of them had willingly done so, being no more comfortable with the formal titles of the White Court than she was, but Dafydd had proved to be rather more stubborn. Annoying, but she would wear him down in time.

"Back here, Dafydd!" she called back. "I'm just going to have a bath-"

The rest of her sentence was drowned out by a colossal clap of thunder, followed by the dull roar of heavily falling rain. Regina jumped, yelping a bit in surprise. The next moment, a flash of brilliant pink light had her running for her balcony doors, clutching her sky blue night robe around her petite frame.

"What was that?" she asked, staring wide-eyed out the pane-glass French doors.  
>"Just the lightning, Princess," Clover replied, puzzled. "Don't you have lightning Above?"<br>"Nothing like this," Regina replied, staring with wonder.

Lightning in the Aboveground was rather straightforward. It was white, occasionally purple, and streaked across the sky in diagonal or straight patterns. It was lovely… but it was nothing like this. The lightning in Underland was colorful. Pink, green, gray, yellow, even red. And the lightning wasn't just a jagged streak across the sky; instead, it exploded across the clouds like fireworks. Regina stood at the window, watching the display in awe.

"Are storms in the Above like this?"

Regina glanced over her shoulder at the sound of her bodyguard's voice. He had taken off his usual daytime clothing and weapons, and leaned against her doorframe dressed only in a tunic and loose knee-length breeches. Instead of his typical neutral face, his expression was curious, and curiously unguarded.

Regina found this even more intriguing than the storm. They didn't talk much, Princess and Bodyguard. He would give her reports about how his men were settling in to Underland, she would chatter on about her lessons and how tyrannical Passidarae was, but most of their discussion was impersonal. However, Regina wasn't about to pass up this opportunity to get to know her bodyguard better.

"Nothing like this," she shook her head. "They're not this… wild. Our lightning doesn't turn colors like this, and it doesn't make patterns. Are storms like this in the Outlands?"

He opened his mouth to answer her, but instead a small laugh came out when Regina stepped forward, her small hands wrapping around the frame of one of her armchairs. Her face screwed up in concentration, she tugged on the wingback chair, trying to drag it to the balcony doors. However, the combination of Regina's petite frame and the heavy, ornately carved wood and overstuffed cushions of chair's weight meant that Regina was doing far more tugging than the chair was moving. It was like watching a kitten trying to drag a boulder, and Dafydd found it unexpectedly endearing.

"Here," Dafydd said, stepping forward and taking the chair for her, placing it in front of the doors.  
>"Thank you," Regina nodded, grinning and happily perching in the chair, contorting in a manner that didn't look comfortable at all [though Regina seemed to like it]. "Get one for yourself. Storms in the Outlands?" she prompted him.<br>"Also not like this," he replied, forgoing a chair and instead lowering himself to the floor at her feet, resting his back against the corner of the chair, arms dangling off his knees. "Storms out there don't last long, it's too hot. The Outlands are a big desert," he elaborated, upon tilting his head back and seeing her bemused expression. "Our tribe would have parties whenever it rained. We'd gather every container that could possibly be used to hold water and spread them all out. Once they were full, there was a huge rush to get all the water into skins and stored underground before it evaporated. And during the whole thing there'd be dancing and music and laughing."  
>"It sounds delightful," Regina smiled. "You must miss them."<p>

Dafydd didn't answer, exactly. He shrugged and looked out the window at the storm, but the wrinkle in his brow told Regina everything she needed to know.

"I meant what I said, you know," she said. "As soon as I've taken the crown, I'll send you and your men to fetch your clan."

Dafydd nodded silently. Hoping to lighten the mood, Regina curled up into a smaller ball, tilting her head.

"Do you have a large family?" she asked, curious.  
>"Not particularly," Dafydd shook his head. "There's my mam and my older brother, his wife and their son and a babe on the way. We had another brother, Andras, but he died."<br>"I'm sorry," Regina said softly.  
>Dafydd shook his head, his gaze falling to the floor. "It was a few years ago. A battle."<br>"You must miss him terribly," Regina said. "I can't imagine losing a sibling."

Dafydd nodded, clenching his jaw as he stared moodily out the window. Regina bit her lip, playing with her fingers. She could see her Outlandish bodyguard trying to close himself off again, but she wasn't ready for their conversation to end just yet.

"Tell me about the Outlands," she requested. "Ioan told me your clan is nomadic."

He nodded, his eyes unfocusing as he began to speak. While he had never been short on words, Dafydd was no bard. A flirt and a flatterer when occasion called for it, yes, but not a storyteller. Yet Regina found herself transported as he described the stark, harsh beauty of the Outlands, the dangerous terrain that every once in a while would be softened by blooming desert plants or an occasional oasis.

"It's strange," he finally mused, running a hand over his shorn head. "I shouldn't miss it. The place really is miserable. We have no life out there, not like what we'll have here someday."  
>"It's your home," Regina said softly. "All you've ever known. Of course you miss it. I feel the same way about London; I know I'll never go back, but part of me will always miss it."<p>

He looked up at her, this Aboveground Princess he'd sworn himself to protect. She had been a ploy, a distraction and a shield. The plan had been to insinuate himself and his men into Underland, under the guise of protecting the dainty, delicate Princess. When they had gathered their strength and gotten the lay of the land, they would kill the Azure Princess, the Blue Queen, and the Sapphire King, claim Witzend and Tearmunn for themselves, and open the mountain pass to their clan.

It had been so much easier to follow the plan when she was merely a title, nothing more than the Azure Princess of Witzend. It was the reason he had avoided using her name; if she as only a title, she wasn't quite real. Protecting a title- or killing a Princess- was a duty, all abstract concepts. To acknowledge _Regina_, to commit to seeing a person… that changed things. He could countenance killing the Azure Princess of Witzend. But to destroy _Regina_, this tiny girl who seemed so very large, this fascinating creature with all her hopes and fears and disappointments and dreams… that idea was abominable, blasphemy at its blackest.

And yet, what else could he do? Against his will, he was _seeing_ her now, seeing the human girl behind the abstract title. This curious, excitable, optimistic, foolish, headstrong girl- this was what he would have destroyed. She was precious, as special as the land he would have so willingly killed her for but weeks ago. And once he'd seen her, he couldn't un-see her.

He could no longer countenance his callous plan. To kill her, to sacrifice her to his own ambition, was abominable. She was a creature to be protected and preserved, and this he silently swore to do. He would become her protector in truth, as well as in name.

He would never tell her how close he had come to destroying her, he decided. But he would guard her until his heart stopped beating, and he would dedicate himself to knowing every facet of the creature he had so nearly sacrificed.

They ended up not sleeping that night. Instead, they sat before her balcony doors, sometimes rambling on about memories from their childhood, or making plans for the future of his clan, her subjects, and sometimes sitting silently and marveling at the strange beauty of a Wonderlandian storm.

And while the storm raged outside, a completely different kind of storm began to gather inside. Someday, they would blame a thunderstorm for their own lightning.


	5. Bonding at the Barterangle

**Author's Note**: There is something very bizarre about my Regina- she bonds much more easily with men than women. If I were to go into the psychology behind this, I'd probably say that she suffers from abandonment issues where her mother is concerned, and in the Aboveground girls her own age almost always snubbed and shunned her, whereas men [particularly older men like Papa Richard] were much more accepting of her.

However, the White Princess of Marmoreal refused to appear in the trilogy if I didn't find a way to make her and her cousin Gigi BFFs. By Book Two of the Trilogy Proper, their friendship is firmly established, but I really didn't have anywhere in Book One to get that friendship going. Hence this one-shot.

This one-shot ended up making me take a new look at Lily. She was originally something of a peripheral character within the Trilogy Proper; just someone to use as comic relief. Her story ended up veering in a _completely_ different direction than I'd planned on, and if I hadn't written this one-shot, I never would have come up with her story arc. The same holds true for Nerissa. Originally, Nerissa was just a name. She wasn't actually an important character at all until after two or three revisions of the plot for Book Three of the Trilogy Proper. Now she's got her very own subplot, which meant that I had to develop her character. This seemed like a good way to do that.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Regina's dress [but in blue with gold trim]: http:/ www. wornthrough. com/ blog/ wp- content/ uploads/ 2009/ 01/ greenblack- dress. Jpg

Regina and Nerissa's bracelets: http:/ www. glassjewelrysource. com/ v/ vspfiles/ photos/ BR- TFLUNAGS 1085- 2 T. jpg

Banner for this chapter: http:/ www. polyvore. com/ barterangle/ set? id= 37716427

**Original Character Face Claim**: Nerissa is portrayed by a young Dakota Fanning.

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><p>"I want to go to the Barterangle."<p>

The White Royals' breakfast in the cherry blossom grove of Marmoreal had been a rather quiet affair before Crown Princess Lily Palladia's sudden statement. Queen Mirana had had her nose buried in a book of potions, her delicate eyebrows moving expressively as she frowned down at the recipe for an Unbruising Unguent [with very active, rambunctious twin youngling boys, Mirana was always in need of new cures for bumps and bruises]. King Kalen had been looking over a diplomatic dispatch from the Overseas kingdom of his native Jumphasor. Princess Selena, five years Lily's junior, had been staring into space, a daydreamy expression on her face [which meant she was likely imagining an encounter with this week's flirtation; the fourteen-year-old Princess' coy nature was already giving her father nightmares], while ten-year-old Princess Nerissa and nine-year-old Princess Aurora bickered over a missing hair ribbon and five-year-old Princes Draven and Gareth giggled, slapped, poked, and flicked cherry pits at each other. The children's long-lost and recently-returned cousin, Princess Regina of Witzend, had been absentmindedly stirring her third cup of tea while attempting to memorize the names of the various cities in her native kingdom. At Lily's announcement, however, everyone was drawn out of their various distractions.

"I'm sorry, Blossom, what was that?" Mirana inquired, lowering her recipe book to the table.  
>"The Barterangle," Lily repeated, setting down a half-eaten biscuit. "I want to go. It's a beautiful day, Mother, and I have nothing to do, and Regina's never been-"<br>"Oh, we _have_ to take her!" Nerissa gasped, clapping her hands in excitement as her chin-length white curls bobbed and swayed. "Please, Mama?"

Regina found herself blushing and smiling shyly down the table at her cousin. Ever since she had returned from the Chessboard battlefield, she had found herself the focus of Lily's attention. It had been rather unsettling at first, to find her female cousins constantly dropping by her chambers to see how she was settling into her quarters, to drag her out to introduce her to the wonders of the capital city, even just to chatter on for hours on end. For Regina, who had never really had friends- especially not girls close to her own age- she found the constant attention both nerve-wracking and welcome. She liked her younger cousins' constant chatter and noise, and Lily's exuberant, tolerant marshalling of them.

"What's the Barterangle?" she ventured, glancing between Lily and Mirana.  
>"It's the monthly market!" Nerissa explained, grinning.<br>"Once a month, the merchants display their finer wares- jewelry, fine cloth, furniture," Mirana expanded. "It's more relaxed and festive than the weekly farmers' markets."  
>"Oh, it's ever so much fun!" Aurora chimed in, bouncing in her seat. "Please, Mama, can we go?"<p>

Mirana tilted her head to the side, her lips pursed in thought. Everyone at the table- even Kalen and the twins- remain quiet, likely not even breathing in anticipation. It was something Regina had noticed about her relatives; rambunctious and independent the children might be, but their mother's word was law. Kalen was a kind, firm, and attentive father, but Mirana laid down the rules.

"I don't see why not," she decided, smiling as her daughters erupted in cheers. Turning to one of her lesser Rabbit pages, Mirana issued a soft order for a few bags' worth of trading goods. "I'll send along a few Pawns-"  
>"Oh <em>no<em>," Lily whined, screwing up her face. "The Pawns are so… _formal_. Why can't we just bring along Dafydd and Ioan? Isn't that what they're here for, protection?"  
>"They are Regina's bodyguards, Lily, not yours," Kalen reminded her, a faint twinkle in his eye.<p>

Lily pouted again, and Regina tried her hardest to hide a grin. She'd noticed that Lily truly didn't enjoy many things about being royalty, most especially being constantly guarded by the Pawns. Lily Palladia was addicted to adventure. Regina had no doubt that if she could, her cousin would don a pair of trousers and travel all over Underland having madcap escapades, like the heroes in the dime novels Up in London.

Clearing her throat, Regina turned to face her bodyguard. "Would you and Ioan mind, Dafydd?" she asked.  
>"Not at all," Dafydd shook his head. "Today is our day off training, anyways, and Ioan wanted to have a look at a weapons dealer who's supposed to be in town."<br>Regina smiled, turning back around. "Then it's settled," she grinned.  
>Lily squealed, jumping up and running around the table. "We have to get ready!" she declared.<p>

Another thing Regina had learned about Lily- she was even tinier than Regina, but she was feisty. There was no point in trying to keep Lily from dragging one behind her; it was easier to simply give in. This was exactly what Regina did. In no time at all, Lily and Nerissa had dragged Regina from the gardens up to Regina's chamber, both chattering on incessantly about the wonders of the Barterangle while also trying- and failing- to influence Regina's maid Clover in the matter of what Regina should wear into town. Clover, of course, wasn't listening to anything the princesses had to say.

"She's the Azure Princess of Witzend, and she'll look the part," her sassy maid said firmly as she disappeared into the wardrobe.

Regina stifled a giggle. She still wasn't used to that title, or that identity. For eighteen years, Regina had believed her name was Jane Ascot, that she was a lowly ward, a foundling, and barely worthy of attention or undue fuss. Yet, since coming to Underland and learning that she was a Princess, Regina had been in the center of everyone's attention. In her mind, the best way to get used to being a Princess was by dressing like a princess, an idea with which the clothing-obsessed Clover was all too happy to abide by.

And therein lay the root cause of the ongoing war between the White Princesses and the maid. Lily and Nerissa, having been raised in the White Court, were naturally partial to the fashions of Marmoreal. They adored seeing Regina in the tight stomachers and enormous skirts championed by Mirana, not to mention the white tones that emphasized Regina's pale complexion and fiery hair. However, Clover was adamant that Regina, by dint of being from Witzend, should represent the fashion of her home. Truth be told, Regina did prefer the clothing championed by her parents- if only because they weren't white. Regina cordially detested white, in all its infinitely boring shades and hues.

Finally, Clover and the Princesses had come to a truce and agreed upon a dress for Regina to wear. It was long-sleeved, with the tight wasp torso and bustle skirt that so defined the Aboveground dresses of the 1870s- the time of Regina's mother, the Legendary Alice. The dress was blue, of course, with gold scalloped trim and piping at neck, sleeves and hem. Embroidering the fabric were small pink roses. While not made by her da- Tarrant spent nearly all his waking hours in his hat workshop, re-learning his Trade- he had clearly had a hand in the dress' design. Really, he'd gone overboard on his only daughter, ordering dozens of dresses, pairs of gloves, shoes, and of course, making her more Hats than she could ever wear in her lifetime.

When Clover declared Regina ready, the White Princesses grabbed their cousin's wrists and ran for the door. Regina barely had time to grab her Hat from its stand by the door before they were running down the hall and outside, where a spacious open-air carriage waited. Princesses Aurora and Selena were already waiting for them- well, Aurora was waiting for them. Selena was shamelessly flirting with Ioan, who shamelessly flirted right back, not missing a beat as he boosted Nerissa into the carriage.

"Give your fluttering eyelids a rest, LeeLee," Lily said, rolling her eyes at her younger sister. "You're batting them so hard I'm amazed our skirts haven't flown up yet."

Selena glared, kicking out at Lily's shin, but before she could come up with a properly cutting retort, the Horses had taken off.

The Barterangle was held in a large field to the east of Marmoreal. Normally, the field lay barren and abandoned, but once a month tents blossomed overnight, and the field looked like an overflowing garden of colors and noises and smells. Regina took it all in, eyes wide in amazement. She had grown up in London and Papa Richard had taken her shopping on Mayfair, and in bazaars in India, but she had never seen a market as vast as this.

"Gigi, welcome to the Barterangle," Lily said expansively, holding out her arms.

For a while, the princesses simply walked through the rows of stalls. Instead of being arranged by types of product, as Regina had expected, merchandise was organized by color. One merchant sold oranges, while next door a jewelry vendor hawked his superior amber and topaz pieces; a few rows over a seller of emerald jewelry set up shop beside a woman selling green songbirds. As Regina looked around, she began to smile; how wonderfully mad this place was.

"Alright, girls, stay together," Lily admonished her younger sisters. "Don't run off from Ioan, and for heaven's sake don't barter all your pearls at once."  
>"Of course not!" Aurora retorted, grabbing Selena's hand and dashing off towards the yellow aisle.<br>"May I stay with you, Lily?" Nerissa asked hopefully.  
>"Yes, if you promise to behave, and help me show Gigi around," Lily nodded.<p>

Regina smiled encouragingly at her young cousin. Nerissa was by far the most shy of all the Adamasi children. Perhaps it was her age; maybe it was the fact that she was lost in the shuffle of all her siblings. Whatever the cause, Nerissa was quiet, shy and retiring. However, she had become utterly devoted to Regina, timidly following her elder cousin around and quietly blossoming under the attention Regina paid her. Regina, for her part, found that she quite enjoyed the company of her bashful young cousin. Nerissa was like a princess straight from the pages of the Aboveground fairy tale books Regina had been raised on, but more than that, Nerissa reminded Regina of herself, when she had been lonely and so very alone. So Regina took notice of Nerissa, determined that her cousin wouldn't be forgotten as she had been. Smiling, Regina threaded one arm through Lily's, and hooked the other with Nerissa.

"Will you show me how to barter?" she asked her young cousin. "We don't do this Above."  
>"Really?" Nerissa asked, face scrunching up in confusion. "How do you pay for things?"<br>"Everything has a set price," Regina replied. "You pay for it with money- coins, bills."  
>"Well, that's strange," Nerissa frowned. "What if the product isn't worth the price?"<br>"Too bad," Regina shrugged. "You pay anyways."  
>"That's thievery," Lily declared. "You'd never get away with that here."<br>"What do you have to trade?" Nerissa asked.

Regina reached into her reticule, withdrawing a small pouch. Every week, Tarrant handed his daughter a small pouch of trinkets she could use to trade in the farmers' markets. She had never really had cause to use her allowance, so every week she had simply thrown everything together into this leather sac.

"Well…" she said, rooting through the bag. "Um… straight pins, buttons, thimbles… I think there's a skein or two of thread…"  
>"Perfect," Lily grinned. "You can barter for pretty much anything, then."<br>"Pins and buttons are good for smaller bartering," Nerissa explained. "A passionfruit, like that one," she continued, pointing at a nearby fruit stall. "You could barter off two or three pins for that. The thread and especially the thimbles are more valuable. Two thimbles and a forearm's length of thread would probably get you an entire dress."  
>Regina blinked. "That hardly seems like a fair barter."<br>"Oh, seamstresses are always eager for thimbles," Nerissa shrugged. "Come on!"

Giggling, Regina held onto her Hat as Nerissa led her towards the booths, Lily and Dafydd following along behind.

"Oh, let's stop here," Regina said, halting at a jewelry booth.  
>The jeweler puffed up his chest proudly, recognizing Nerissa to belong to the White Court. "I've the finest glasswares in all of Marmoreal, I does," he assured them.<br>Regina smiled, fingering the pale blue beads of a pair of earrings. "They're beautiful," she replied. "They look like Venetian glass."  
>"Venetia? Is that a country Aboveground?" Nerissa asked eagerly.<p>

Regina grinned. Of all her cousins, she hadn't expected Nerissa to be so curious about Upland. That seemed much more in the adventurous Lily's line. However, Nerissa was fascinated by the idea of distant, exotic lands, like London. While Regina couldn't possibly imagine how London could ever be considered exotic, she was more than happy to tell Nerissa stories about the faraway places of the Aboveground world.

"Venice," she corrected Nerissa. "It's a city in a country called Italy. Venice is famous for its culture and artistry."  
>"Like Marmoreal?" Nerissa asked. "A center for art and beauty?"<br>"Exactly like that," Regina nodded.

Regina tilted her head as two pieces of jewelry caught her eye. They were matching bracelets. The chains were gold, the glass beads a shade of pale, pale pink; nearly the color of mother of pearl. Golden, glittering dragonflies were detailed within each bead. The bracelets were lovely and delicate, the perfect sort of thing to adorn a princess' wrist.

"How much for these?" Regina asked, fingering the bracelets.  
>"Ah, a beautiful choice!" the merchant beamed. "The lady has excellent taste. Where are you from?"<br>"Witzend," Nerissa replied, upon seeing the look of confusion on her cousin's face. "Each area of Underland uses different things for bartering, based on their economy. So the markets ask where you're from, so they know what you'll be bartering with."  
>"Oh," Regina nodded, wishing not for the first time that she didn't need these things explained to her. "Yes, Witzend," she confirmed. "Berserka, to be exact."<br>"Ah, a fine town, to be sure," the merchant nodded. "Queen Alice has worked hard to build up a trading post there."

Regina nodded silently, smiling to keep her upper lip from curling at the mention of her _math air_. Still, even with all her problems with her mother, bartering and all forms of business were her mother's domain. Surely there had to be some of that haggling spirit in Alice's daughter?

"I think five pins would about pay for two of these," she said.  
>"Five pins!" the merchant cried dramatically. "You insult me with so low a price! Such pieces of art as this are easily worth thread and needles!"<br>"They're bracelets," Regina retorted. "I'd pay thread and needles for a full set perhaps, but these are just bracelets."  
>"I cannot accept anything less than buttons," the merchant replied, waving his hands. "To do less would be to devalue my art. Say, two buttons apiece?"<br>"Two apiece? That's piracy!" Regina laughed. "At most, they're worth two buttons and a pin."  
>"Two buttons and three pins, and you have a deal," the merchant offered.<br>"Deal," Regina nodded.

A moment later, the merchant was busily wrapping the two bracelets, happily humming to himself at a job well done. He handed the packet to Regina, who smiled, thanked him, and walked away.

"How did I do?" she asked Nerissa.  
>"Very well," Nerissa grinned. "You're a natural."<br>"I had expert guidance," Regina smiled, opening the pack and withdrawing one of the bracelets, stringing it onto Nerissa's wrist. "There! I knew it would suit you!"  
>"Oh, but… you bought these," Nerissa said uncertainly. "They're yours!"<br>"Yes, and I'll wear this one," Regina said, draping the other bracelet onto her wrist. "But that one is for you, for being such a good teacher."  
>Nerissa smiled shyly, gently touching the glass beads. "Thank you," she said softly. "Will you tell me more about Venice?"<p>

Giggling, Regina threaded her arm through her cousin's and led her towards the green aisle, chattering on and on about the art and architecture and operas and gondolas and famed Venetian masks. Several paces behind them, Lily watched them with a smile. She'd known the Barterangle was a good idea…


	6. Coming Home

**Author's Note**: Welcome to section two of BTP! The next several one-shots will cover the period of time that lapses between Books Two and Three of _The Wonderland Chronicles_.

This chapter got really, incredibly, stupidly long. But that really couldn't be avoided; a lot of the things that happen in this chapter are going to come back in Book Three in a big way, and I had to lay the groundwork for them somewhere. It's also a very Dafydd-centric chapter, which I suppose is fitting since Book Two was so much about him and his issues. I don't know what I'm going to do with myself when Dafydd makes peace with all his demons and resolves his emotional baggage.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Madoc: wooftown wp- content/ uploads/ 2011/ 03/ Irish- Wolfhound- Thumbnail- 425 x 280. jpg

**Special Thanks**: Thanks to my lovely beta, Ranguvar27, for giving this a look!

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><p>He was going to kill her.<p>

Alright, fine. Maybe he wouldn't kill her. No, he definitely wouldn't kill her; couldn't even contemplate the idea of killing her. The very mental image of seeing her dead was unbearable, was in fact the starring role in his nightmares. He had thought she'd died once, and it had nearly broken him. No, not nearly. It had broken him, shattered him, torn him into a million tiny pieces held together with Madness and the sinews of his broken heart.

So no, he would never let anyone or anything get close enough to kill her.

But really, he was going to have her head for this.

Dafydd Hightopp scowled as the party of travelers lumbered along the Via Abalonia, the main thoroughfare between Witzend and Crims that was being constructed by a joint effort between Queen Alice of the Clubs and Regina, Queen of Hearts. Once the road was complete, traveling time between the two kingdoms would be cut in half- if, of course, the path behaved itself. It would be a brilliant idea of Alice's, if it worked.

Of course, at the moment, Dafydd couldn't help but wish that the path would have a spectacular fit of temper and twist them backwards, home to Isla Affalin. Or off to the Crimson Sea. Or even get them lost within the Tulgey Wood. Really, he was alright with ending up anywhere other than the one place where they were headed.

He had tried to explain things to Regina. Had tried to tell her that he was an outcast now, that there was no place for him in Tearmunn. After what he'd done, no one in his- their- clan would have anything to do with him. He was a murderer, a traitor, and his people never forgot or forgave that sort of thing. If Regina wanted to go to the Brae, by all means; he'd assign the Deuces to take her, with a firm order to Ioan to keep Regina out of trouble and a firm order to Rhys to keep Ioan from flirting with Regina. But Dafydd wouldn't come with her; he wouldn't voluntarily cause that kind of unrest among his people. Things were unsettled enough as it was, what with everyone getting used to Tearmunn and being Hightopps and especially being Tarrant's Hightopps and not Niall's. For Dafydd to show his face would only bring trouble, and he had tried and tried to get Regina to see that.

It probably would have been easier if Regina had frowned at him. If she had argued, he would have happily fought right back. They could have had a truly spectacular shouting match; maybe she would have thrown something at him. She would have huffed and stormed off and left without him, and everything would have been dandy.

But she hadn't argued; hadn't even frowned. No, she'd gone and done something much worse.

She had looked at him.

No, not a look; a Look. She had Looked up at him, her already large eyes impossibly wider, no barriers or filters to shield him from having to watch her eyes change color. From leaf green to washed-out blue-green to dark blue-grey. Blast the Trees, he hated it when her eyes faded to those colors; it meant that she was sad again, and it was his fault. He would do anything to make her eyes go back to their right-proper-Regina color, and she knew that, and it was incredibly unfair of her to use those enormous, manipulative, beautiful eyes against him.

She had Looked, her eyes had faded, and before he knew what was going on he was sitting astride Arturias, riding beside Regina's open-top carriage on their way to Tearmunn to spend a few days with Tarrant on the Brae.

He was going to kill her for getting him to agree to this.

Fates help him; he didn't want to do this. He was fairly positive he couldn't handle being scrutinized by his clan, couldn't face their accusing gazes or their snide comments or their cold, judging faces. He deserved their opprobrium, deserved everything they could dish out and worse, but he didn't want to do it. His clan had loved him, once. He knew that love was gone, but he didn't want to have to face it squarely in the daylight.

Curse Regina for giving him that Look. Curse her for making him her Champion and therefore unable to leave her. Curse him, for being so pathetically dependant on her that he literally didn't know what to do with himself when he wasn't by her side.

Maybe it would be alright, he thought cautiously. Maybe he would be ignored, forgotten in the excitement that Regina would inspire by her return home. Tarrant was sure to celebrate his daughter's arrival with a party; maybe while the Hightopps were busy dancing and drinking and delighting in each others' company, he could slink back into the shadows and stay out of everyone's attention until it was time to go home.

He scoffed impatiently. When had he ever been that lucky?

He kept his head down as they entered the clearing of the halfway-completed Heartland, which had been christened Hatsfield. The village was bustling, as much as was possible given that it was only half-finished. People talking, animals barking and neighing and clucking, the sounds of commerce overlaid on the symphony of construction. His heart ached, taking his breath away with the sudden pain. Fates, how long had he wanted this for his clan? To be permanently settled somewhere, prosperous and hopeful? He still couldn't quite believe that this was real; he still expected to wake up and find himself back in his tent in the Outlands, with nothing but the dust-filled wind for company through his insomnia.

He dismounted Arturias, stepping over to help Regina out of the carriage. He inhaled instinctually, letting the scents of honeysuckle and sandalwood invade his nose and sink into his every pore, filling him with a sense of calm he was helpless to fight. He was pretty sure he would never have been able to dream Regina up. So if she was real, the rest of this must be, as well.

Which meant that yes indeed; people were looking at him and trying to hide it. He ignored them for now, though. Do not engage, do not acknowledge. Just ignore everyone, focus on Regina grinning as she nearly disappeared into her athair's enthusiastic embrace, get her inside and avoid contact with everyone, just until he had enough time to brace himself for this…

"Dafydd?"

Oh, blast it.

He winced, his eyes falling shut. Fates, why? Why did she have to be here? Why could he hear her in the midst of a happily babbling crowd?

He couldn't do this. He couldn't do an awkward, painful reunion, couldn't bear to turn around and face his mathair's cold eyes and angry frown. He'd lost his mathair's love when he pinned Niall to the earth with his brother's sword, but he couldn't stand to face her and see the proof. Not now, not in front of all these people.

But he couldn't very well ignore her. He'd tried that when he was younger and his mathair would simply follow him, getting progressively more vocal. No, it was best to get this over with. Even though there were so many eyes watching, judging, waiting.

Regina was in so much trouble for doing this to him…

Swallowing hard, Dafydd slowly pivoted, squaring his shoulders to face his mathair. Gwynyth stood some four paces from him- not quite folding her arms, rather more like hugging her elbows. Though her face was schooled into a calm mask, Dafydd could read her tension, her wariness, and he had to fight back a flinch at the knowledge that he was the cause of her unease.

Then…

SMACK

"Ow!" he yelped, eyes wide with shock as he brought a hand up to his stinging cheek.  
>"And it serves you right," Gwynyth snapped, tears brimming in her eyes. "Disappearing on me like that and not even bothering to come home and tell your maman you're alright! I should drag you over my knee and tan your hide, Dafydd Hightopp!"<p>

There was a somewhat muted ripple of snickers from the onlookers; Lady Gwynyth and her threats to her sons- her youngest especially- were legendary. Dafydd shot a Look over his shoulder when a particularly familiar, but recently very rare, giggle floated around him. Yes indeed, that was Regina with her hand over her mouth, utterly failing at hiding her glee at his mathair's scolding.

He was getting her back twice.

"Well!" the Hatter announced, a merry beam on his face. "If there's to be any punishment, perhaps we should take it inside? I have some more than adequate bits of leather that should suffice for your tanning needs, Madam."  
>"Thank you, Laird Tarrant," Gwynyth said drily. "I do believe I'll take you up on that offer."<p>

Giggling, Tarrant led everyone into the High House, babbling something about the proper methods of curing leather. Regina fairly danced beside her athair, and while she didn't turn around, Dafydd could see she wanted to, wanted to look back and see the results of her manipulation.

Honestly, she hadn't been very successful. Dafydd brought up the rear of the party, unable to really look at his mathair as they walked through the Hightopp Laird's home. He could tell, by the very very straight spine and her squared-off shoulders, that she wasn't pleased. But she hadn't glared at him in the way he'd been so sure she would; maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all?

He silently scoffed to himself. Yes, it would be that bad, who was he kidding? His mathair was a terrifying woman.

He blinked in confusion, wondering where in the world Regina and Tarrant had gotten to. Hadn't they been right in front of him? But apparently they'd slipped through a hidden door, because only he and Gwynyth remained in the room.

This had been her plan, Dafydd realized. This was the real reason Regina had dragged him along on this trip home. Not because she wanted to see her da, but to trick him into seeing his mathair. Leave it to his little dearbadan-de to try to force about reconciliations with mathairs, after the miraculous one of her own. Trust a Champion Begat of Champions to refuse to accept that something was impossible.

"Well, sit down to your tea."

Dafydd snapped to attention as Gwynyth's voice cut through his thoughts. His mathair had seated herself at the tea table and was resting her hand on the teapot, an expectant look on her face. Dafydd shook his head slightly; why was his mathair acting like everything was perfectly normal, that there was nothing wrong?

"Don't you hate me?"

Dafydd flinched. Oh, brimini, he hadn't meant to actually say that aloud.

Gwynyth peered up at him, setting down the teapot with a sharp clink. "Why in all the blessed acres of Underland would you assume something as stupid as that?"  
>Dafydd frowned. "I killed Niall, Maman."<br>"Niall's sword killed Niall," Gwynyth corrected him, her voice only the tiniest bit unsteady.  
>"And I was holding Niall's sword," he reminded her.<br>"You killed Niall as much as Alice killed the Jabberwock," Gwynyth maintained. "And as it was the Vorpal Sword that killed it while Alice just held on, I'm quite certain Niall's sword won't appreciate you taking the credit for its work."

Dafydd fell silent, looking at his mathair. Was it really so simple? Surely it wasn't possible that everyone felt this way? Was this some kind of test?

He sank to his knees, laying his head in Gwynyth's lap. "I'm sorry, Maman," he choked out, bowing into the grief. "I should have stopped the sword. I should've been stronger-"  
>"Hush," Gwynyth cut him off, protectively curling over him and running a hand over his shorn head. "Hush now. There's no use in crying over what's done. The sword did what it wanted to do, that's all."<p>

He didn't cry. He was a grown man and a seasoned warrior, he was not crying into his maman's skirts like an upset babe. But his shoulders may have shaken with the force of the relieved shudder that echoed through his entire body. Thank Absolem; he'd been torturing himself needlessly. Gwynyth didn't hold him to blame for what had happened, but he had her forgiveness anyways.

"Regina… she gave me an estate," he said, tilting his head back to look up at her. "Come with me. You and Briallen and the boys… I can take care of you there."  
>Gwynyth shook her head. "My place is here," she said. "But take Briallen, if you wish. I think she feels a bit lost, with no expectations of her here. She'd like running an estate, I daresay."<p>

He nodded silently in agreement. There was, as usual, plenty of sense in what his mathair was saying. As the brother of Briallen's deceased husband, it was Dafydd's responsibility to care for her until Gregan and baby Dai had both undergone their Manhood Rites. There was no way Briallen would come to Court with Dafydd, not when Regina was there. But because he was obliged to be wherever Regina was, there was no way for Dafydd to stay in Tearmunn. Bringing Briallen to be his chatelaine in Annwyn was a perfect solution. It would give her purpose, and plenty to keep her occupied, without having to remain in Hatsfield with Niall's grave.

Dafydd sank back on his heels, reeling from the ramifications of all this thinking. Niall was dead. Niall had been the head of their family. Dafydd was Conrad and Gwynyth's last living son. Great galumphing griffins, he'd become the head of the family. If they were still in the Outlands and still the Nazari, he'd be the bloody ceann-fine.

As if sensing his thoughts, Gwynyth removed the button from Dafydd's neck, draping a leather thong over his head to replace it. Strung on the necklace was the golden button of the Nazari ceann-fines, the button that had come off of Corianth Hightopp's coat all those millions of Days ago when the Hightopps and the Adamasi had first come to Underland from the Sunken Kingdom.

"I know this doesn't mean quite the same as it used to," Gwynyth said, adjusting the thong's length. "By rights I probably should have given this to Laird Tarrant. But even if he's our Laird, you're our ceann-fine, Dafydd. There are those in our clan who would rather answer to you than to him. Rule well, Dafydd of the Nazari."

Dafydd blinked back tears, drawing a deep, shuddering breath. He shifted uneasily beneath the weight of the title his mathair had just laid on him. He wasn't entirely sure he could deal with this pressure, especially not when he still couldn't be sure that the clan didn't hate him.

"I… I'm not staying, Maman," his said, his voice soft but resolved. "My place is in Crims, with Regina."  
>Gwynyth frowned. "But why?" she challenged him. "Why should you dance attendance on her like a servant? You're a prince, Dafydd."<p>

Dafydd blinked again, rocking back on his heels. Where was this coming from? Yes, he'd sworn to his brother as Niall lay dying that he would take care of their people. But he wouldn't ever be the Laird of Tearmunn; even after Tarrant died, leadership of the Hightopps would revert to Regina.

"Prince of what?" he asked blankly, rocking and rising to his feet. "Rocks and sand? We had no land out there. We had nothing. Any title I held in the Outlands is void here. Tarrant is our King. Regina is his heir."  
>"How can you say that?" Gwynyth argued, standing and getting in his face. "You would give up your birthright, your inheritance, to her? What do you owe her?"<br>"My life, for starters," he said harshly, glaring at his mathair. "She gave me my life, when she could have had me killed. I'll never be able to repay her for that."  
>"And what about what you owe to your family?" Gwynyth snapped. "To Niall?"<br>"I know what I promised Niall," Dafydd snapped back. "And anything I can do for our clan, I'll do. But don't set me up as a rival to Tarrant."  
>"So you would. You would throw it all away," Gwynyth said incredulously. "And for what? What is your precious Regina giving you in return?"<p>

Dafydd snarled, turning on his heel and storming out to get away from his mathair's horrible, hateful words. As he stalked away, he banged his fist into the wall. Well, if his mathair hadn't been angry at him before, she surely was now. So much for reconciliation; now they were at odds worse than before.

Brilliant plan, Regina.

Gwynyth sighed in exasperation as Dafydd stormed off; well, that hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped. Abandoning the tea table, she stalked out of the parlor, nearly bumping into the very girl she and her son had been arguing about.

Had she overheard? Did Gwynyth care if she had? She believed every word she had said. She'd always been a firm believer in saying exactly what one meant. Why shouldn't Regina know that Gwynyth fully blamed her for stealing her son away, for taking her child's inheritance?

Regina bit her lip, her heart beating faster than a hummingbird's wing as she stepped out of the way and allowed the elder woman to pass her. Gwynyth's gaze was hard and unfriendly, and painfully easy to read. It was clear who the former banríon of the Nazari held responsible for Niall's death and Dafydd's prolonged absence from his clan, and it wasn't Dafydd. Regina had stolen Dafydd from his family, and Gwynyth would not forget it.

Regina sighed, leaning against the wall and slumping in the silence left behind after Dafydd and Gwynyth's argument. Well, that hadn't gone as well as she'd hoped. She had so wanted to restore Dafydd to his family; she knew how hard the separation on him was, self-imposed though it was, even though he never spoke of it. She knew he was having nightmares; she could hear him sometimes, tossing and turning in the next room over, and sometimes crying out in his sleep. She had so wanted to reunite him with his family, so that he would have someone to turn to for comfort, even if it wasn't her. Instead, Dafydd was only at odds with his mathair, and Gwynyth absolutely hated her. That shouldn't have mattered, but it did. How could she make amends with Gwynyth? How could she bring Dafydd back into his family's fold?

* * *

><p>Dafydd leaned forward in his saddle, curious and eager to see his new home. It had been his for nearly three months now, but he hadn't yet had a chance to visit it. He and Regina had been so preoccupied settling in to Isla Affalin that basically everything else in their lives had been put on hold.<p>

They had meant to travel to Annwyn together after leaving Tearmunn, but Leferidae had sent a missive requesting Regina's immediate return, in order to settle a particularly prickly property dispute between a Hedgehog and a Porcupine. Dafydd had been ready to return with her, but she'd told him not to be daft. There was no reason for him not to go lay claim to his manor; she had the Deuces and the Hearts to protect her, she'd be perfectly fine for a few days on her own.

Funny, Dafydd was beginning to get the distinct impression that Regina was trying to avoid him.

She'd spent an awful lot of time alone on this last visit. She hadn't even been keeping Tarrant company in his workshop, or sitting with Alice in her study, and she certainly hadn't been out among the clan. According to Rhys [and it irritated Dafydd to no end that he'd had to rely on getting this information secondhand, as opposed to seeing it for himself], Regina had spent most of her time wandering through the woods surrounding the Brae, Witzend occasionally wrapped around her shoulders.

He wondered what was troubling her. It was too much to hope that she would come to him; it was clear she still didn't entirely trust him, and the knowledge was a bitter pill to swallow. Was it the nightmares again, he wondered? He knew she was having them frequently; he could hear her some nights, whimpering and restlessly shifting in the next room over. But she never said a word about them, and shut him out when he tried to ask her about them. He hoped that she would turn to someone- if not him, then Tarrant, or maybe Alice. He hated the idea that Regina might be suffering in silence, when there were so many people who loved her and wanted to help.

His melancholy thoughts were interrupted when their small traveling party rode along the lane that took them into the main courtyard of Annwyn Manor. He blinked in surprise; was this all his? The manor was made of stone, and was a jumble of additions and towers; the essence of sprawling, rambling add-as-you-go architecture. He loved it instantly. It was a good house, strong and snug, crying out for laughing children and barking dogs.

Fates. He owed Regina a really good unbirthday present for this. He'd see about getting her that as soon as he'd gotten her back for dragging him to Tearmunn.

"I'm impressed," Briallen said as she hopped down out of the carriage. "I don't know what I was expecting, but this isn't it."

Dafydd nodded, staring up at the house. What a strange feeling to look at this house and know that it was his. He'd been a nomad his entire life; until he'd come to Underland to serve Regina he'd never slept in a permanent building. He'd known nothing but leather tents for his entire life, and now he was the lord of a huge house of stone. This was a change that would take a while to get used to…

"Well, my lord Duke," Briallen said, snickering a bit. "Shall we go inside and see what we have to work with?"

She swept ahead of him without waiting for his answer. Dafydd grinned faintly to himself; he could already tell that Briallen was very much going to enjoy being the lady of this hall.

He was about to follow her when a slight hint of movement by the fountain caught his attention. Brow furrowing, he walked forward, his hand drifting towards the hilt of his claymore.

"Who's there?" he asked, scanning the overgrown bushes surrounding the clogged fountain.

He heard a soft whine and the scuffling of reluctant feet before the creature hesitantly came slinking out of the bushes. Dafydd released his hold on his sword, observing the poor thing. It was a Dog; at least, it had been once. His coat was so matted down with blood and dirt that it was impossible to tell what color it may have been originally. The animal was clearly half-starved, and was trying to keep weight off a badly injured front leg. The corners of his mouth were crusted over with blood, and one eye was swollen shut. Dafydd blinked, staring in shock; how was this abused, neglected creature still alive?

"I'm sorry," the Dog mumbled apologetically, lowering his head and tucking his tail under. "I know I'm not supposed to be here. I'll go…"  
>"There's no need to go anywhere," Dafydd said quickly. "You're not bothering anyone."<br>"Really?" the Dog asked hopefully, his tail wagging weakly.  
>Dafydd nodded. "Are you thirsty? Come inside, I'll get you some water."<br>"Oh… I don't know if I should…" the Dog said hesitantly, shifting uneasily and clearly warring between thirst and fear.  
>"No one on this property will hurt you," Dafydd promised. "You have my word."<p>

The Dog hesitated again, but the promise of water outweighed everything else, and he tentatively followed Dafydd inside, keeping close by his heels. Pity for the poor creature shot through Dafydd. He'd been a fine, proud Dog once; Dafydd could see that in his eyes. But abuse and neglect had taken its toll on him, leaving him but a pale shadow of what he once must have been.

He stumbled upon the kitchen quite by accident. He hadn't been expecting the kitchen to be smack dab in the center of the house, but at the same time that made perfect sense. He walked over to the water pump, leaving the Dog to get comfortable in his surroundings while he pumped some water into a bowl. He smiled softly at the Dog as he set the bowl before him, then withdrew. He remembered how he'd had to tame Arturias when he was a teen; he had to win the animal's trust before anything else. Though why he was so keen on winning the Dog's affection, he didn't know.

* * *

><p>An hour later found Dafydd still in the kitchen, gently and patiently bathing the abused Dog with warm, soapy water. It seemed as though for every bit of mud he cleaned off, Dafydd found another wound or bruise the dirt had hidden. Once again he marveled; how had the Dog endured so many injuries and lived?<p>

"It's not right for Dog to be without a name," Dafydd remarked mildly. "Did you never give yourself one?"  
>The Dog shuffled uneasily in the warm water. "Master had other problems," he said guiltily. "I was the runt of my litter, Master could have killed me. But he kept me."<p>

And that was likely the last kind thing Master had ever done, Dafydd thought darkly.

"That's no excuse for him not to name you," Dafydd maintained. "As long as you're here, you'll have a name."  
>The Dog lowered his head guiltily. "I don't mean to be trouble-"<br>"You're not trouble at all," Dafydd said firmly. "You're a blessing. I've just brought my sister and her sons here, but I have no one to look over them while I'm gone. I'll make a deal with you. If you don't mind staying here to protect Briallen and the boys, there'll always be food and a warm place to sleep for you. What do you say?"

The Dog was quiet for a long moment. Dafydd didn't rush him; he wasn't going to rescind his order.

"I don't think you want me for that," the Dog said finally. "Master had a farm, and he said I wasn't any good at anything."  
>"My people set great store by wolfhounds," Dafydd countered. "I've never met one yet who wasn't a loyal and true friend."<br>"I'll try," the Dog offered meekly, with a weak wag of his tail.  
>Dafydd smiled, scratching behind the Dog's ears. "Now, what to name you?"<p>

He thought for a moment, considering and rejecting names at a rapid pace. The Dog watched him quietly, a timid light in his gentle brown eyes.

"Madoc," Dafydd decided finally. "A good, strong Outlandish name. It means 'fortunate'. What do you think of it?"  
>"Madoc," the Dog repeated slowly. "I like it. May I keep it?"<br>"If you like it, it's yours," Dafydd nodded.

Madoc's ears pricked, and his tail wagged briefly. Dafydd nodded in satisfaction, pleased at the change that seemed to come over the Dog with the simple application of a proper name.

* * *

><p>Dafydd sat in one of the many sitting rooms, sprawled in an armchair in front of a low-burning fire that had been built in deference to the chill of the spring night. Madoc lay at his feet, quietly gnawing at a bone. It was surprisingly peaceful; the complete opposite of how his nights usually unfolded. If he were in Isla Affalin, he'd spend the evening watching over Regina- propping up the walls, as she liked to phrase it- as she worked in her office or attended to her lessons or entertained herself in her music room. He wouldn't leave her side until nighttime, when he reluctantly left to sleep in his silent, far-too-large room.<p>

He kind of liked this; the silence, the lack of pressure to be on guard or to do anything. He wondered if that might not be why Regina had sent him here alone. She had been so worried that becoming her Champion would rob Dafydd of his entire life; had she sent him to Annwyn to give him something for himself?

Or was she, as he'd suspected earlier, just trying to get away from him?

"Well look at you, the very picture of a high-and-mighty laird in his domain."

Dafydd smiled faintly, glancing over his shoulder and motioning for Briallen to sit opposite him. She glided forward, settling herself in the other armchair with a shirt she was mending for Gregan.

"And you're every inch the lady of the manor," he teased her back.  
>She looked up at him, her face solemn. "Is that why you brought me here, Dafydd? To make me your Duchess?"<p>

It was a good thing Dafydd hadn't been drinking; he surely would have sprayed any liquid all over himself. As it was, he choked and spluttered, his eyes wide in alarm. Briallen watched his conniption fit calmly, carrying on with her sewing.

"Wh-What?" he managed to exclaim.  
>"It's not so uncommon," she continued, still infuriatingly calm. "Of course I admit I'm surprised by your intentions, but it's quite flattering to be desired by a younger man. When will we be Bound?"<p>

Dafydd gaped, trying to understand how this misunderstanding had happened. How could Briallen have misconstrued his intentions so badly? Yes, he fully meant to provide for his brother's widow and sons, but marry her? He couldn't! Even if he'd wanted to- and he didn't- he couldn't; he'd given his heart away, and among their people once a heart was lost, it was gone for life.

"Briallen," he choked, scrambling to find a way to explain. "I-"

He was cut off by Briallen's laughter. Her shoulders were shaking, and she bent in half, holding her sides as she shrieked with glee. Dafydd stared at her, helplessly befuddled and wondering if perhaps one of them had gone mad.

"Oh Fates, your face!" she giggled, wiping tears from her eyes.  
>"Bri!" he exclaimed, exasperated. "Was that all a joke?"<br>"I'm sorry," she gasped, trying to reel in her mirth. "I couldn't help myself. And there are those who'll believe that, you know," she added. "They'll insist you're trying to maintain power over the clan by marrying me."  
>Dafydd rolled his eyes. "Let the hens cluck. I can't understand Chickenspeak, can you?"<br>"And what of those who believe you're angling to marry Regina, so you'll be Laird after Tarrant dies?"

At that he paused, hardly daring to breathe. He had told no one, save Tarrant himself, that that had once been his exact plan. Even Regina didn't know this, that once upon a time had had been planning to worm his way into her trust, to use her to get close to Tearmunn.

The irony wasn't lost on him that he'd had a better chance of marrying Regina when she was merely the means to an end than he did now, when he wanted to marry her simply for herself.

He looked down at his hands, unable to meet his sister's gaze. "I wouldn't do that to her," he said, his voice low. "She deserves far more than I'll ever be able to give her."  
>Briallen's gaze was hard and searching. "By all rights, I should hate her," she commented.<p>

She held her ground as Dafydd's head shot up, meeting his accusatory gaze squarely. She fought to keep her gaze impassive, but she was startled to watch Dafydd's eyes changing color. It had been a defining trait of the Hightopps', once, to have eyes that changed color with one's emotions. Upon their reintegration into Underland and clan, the former Nazari had begun to exhibit this trait of their ancestors'. It was a strange adjustment, to realize that one's private thoughts were no longer private, that anyone could tell exactly how one felt simply by looking at one. While not as vivid a change as Tarrant or Regina were capable of, Dafydd's eyes were most certainly darkening, taking on a violet hue. Briallen wondered what it meant- something to do with the Queen he was bound to, certainly, but what?

She shrugged, keeping on point. "Well, I should. If not for her, my husband would still be alive."  
>Dafydd's glare worsened. "That's my doing, Bri, not hers."<br>"And you never would have turned on Niall if you hadn't been protecting her," she retaliated. "So you'll have to forgive me for not singing her praises."

Dafydd drew an angry breath to retaliate, but Briallen silenced him with a hand clapped over his mouth.

"Let me finish," she admonished him. "No, I don't like her, and yes, I hold her responsible for Niall's death. And yes, I think you can do better than her. But she brought you home, where you belong. Even though you say you won't stay with us, she brought you back to your people. I thank her for that."

Dafydd exhaled shakily, nodding. He'd already had this argument once; he really didn't want to do it again. Rubbing the back of his neck, he leaned back into his armchair and changed the subject.

"How's Gregan?"

Briallen's face fell, and the gesture told Dafydd everything he needed to know. Gregan had idolized his athair. When last Dafydd had heard, Gregan hadn't spoken a word after Niall's death; apparently he still hadn't. Dafydd sighed, leaning back in his chair as he gazed into the fire. What could he do for his nephew? Was it better to bring the boy with him to Isla Affalin, where he could keep an eye on him? Or was it kinder to leave him in the peace and quiet of Annwyn?

"It's past time for him to undergo his Manhood Rites," he observed.  
>Briallen nodded, her eyes falling to her sewing. "Niall wanted to wait until you were back home," she said, her voice low. "He knew how much Gregan looks up to you."<p>

Dafydd winced, passing a hand over his eyes. Yes, he did know that. He'd used it to his advantage in the Outlands, when he and Gregan had gone behind Niall's back to get the Elders involved in the Nazari's fight to return home. And how had Dafydd repaid his nai? By murdering Gregan's athair in cold blood.

"He must hate me," he sighed, his voice barely audible.  
>"He's hurting," Briallen corrected him. "He doesn't know exactly what happened. Just that his athair is dead and his ewythr abandoned him to guard his athair's enemy."<p>

There was that dark look again, and the darkening of his irises that occurred whenever Regina was mentioned. Idly, she wondered if Regina herself might know exactly what emotion was being so blatantly displayed in Dafydd's eyes? Shaking her head to refocus, Briallen held her ground.

"That's what she was, Dafydd," she pointed out, trying to keep her voice neutral. "She was our enemy, and it's hard to forget it overnight. We've not had a six-month with her, like you and the Hassasseen."

"Fearail," he immediately corrected her.  
>"Fearail, then," she repeated.<p>

She stamped down a frisson of irritation. The Fearail, were they? So here was one more thing Regina had changed, one more thing she had taken from them. When would it end? Was Regina determined to completely change Dafydd, in every respect and facet and word and deed?

"We need time to get used to her," she continued. "Surely you understand that."  
>Dafydd sighed, nodding. "I'm home now," he said contritely, backpedaling. "If you want to plan Gregan's Rites, I'll stay until they're completed."<p>

Briallen smiled, kneeling before him and embracing him. She still had problems with Regina, and this conversation wasn't over. But for now, this was enough. Regina had taken so much, but this would be one part of him that would belong to his family.

"Thank you, brawd," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

* * *

><p>Regina stepped away from the Looking Glass, numb. Even after the connection had severed, she stared unseeing at her pale face, her mind struggling to understand what she'd seen.<p>

She wasn't aware she'd been walking backwards, until she bumped up against the wall. Upon hitting a solid buffer, her legs decided they no longer needed to support her, and she sank to the ground, a mass of billowed skirts and utter confusion.

The Glass' connection had been indistinct, one part of Regina's brain scrambled to reassure her. It was possible that she was seeing images out of order, that she didn't have the necessary context to understand what Dafydd had said.

The rest of her brain scoffed in derision. Context was unimportant; there was no way to misconstrue what he'd promised.

_I'll stay..._

He had never hugged her like that.

The rebellious part of her mind, the part that didn't want to believe what she'd seen, scrambled for purchase, and in doing so it immediately latched on to the one thing it knew would hurt her the most. Traitorously, it reminded her forcefully and in exquisite detail of That Day, the two of them alone in the woods beyond the Brae. He had clung to her as if she meant sanity, kissed her as though she was his life. Even now, three months later, just the memory of that kiss sent her aflutter. He couldn't kiss her like that and then break his promise to stay with her.

_I'll stay…_

No, she fought stubbornly. He had promised. He took the Champion's Vow, an unbreakable Vow. He would come home to her.

_I'll stay…_

But what if he didn't? What if he'd decided that his place was with his family? He felt responsible for them, now that his brother was gone. Could she prevent him from taking on those duties?

She banged her head against the wall, fighting back her tears. She had to trust him. She should be ashamed of herself, that her faith in him could be shattered so easily. Hadn't he told her that he'd chosen her? Why would he, who valued loyalty so highly, betray her at the first test?

_Please_, her heart whispered, cried, screamed. _Please come home_.

* * *

><p>Dafydd grinned to himself as Arturias galloped through the countryside towards Isla Affalin. He'd been gone from home for a full month longer than he'd planned. He was sure that by now, Ioan had weaseled his way back into Regina's good graces, and that could only mean trouble for him. And though of course he kept up with his combat training as best he was able, it had been so long since he'd properly sparred that a common Pawn could probably put him flat on his back. Yes, he'd been gone a very long time. He was looking forward to coming home.<p>

As he approached the fairy tale gold and glass palace, his heart lifted to see Regina's standard fluttering on the breeze. A golden apple tree emblazoned on a plum background, with the motto _Fyddaf yn dychwelyd ac aros_, Outlandish for "I return and remain," scrolled on the bottom. Oh good, she was home.

They hadn't really had any time to talk in Tearmunn, after that stunt she'd pulled leaving him alone with his mathair. He'd spent all his time since that disastrous argument avoiding Gwynyth, and Regina had all but disappeared into the woods enveloping Hatsfield and the Brae. She hadn't even been there to see him off when he left for Tearmunn; she'd left as soon as she'd gotten Leferidae's missive. He wondered how that case had gone. How had she fared in the throne room without their constant nonverbal communication, without his menacing presence to hurry things along so she didn't end up sitting in that throne for three times as long as she should have?

Arturias trotted through the front gate, whickering a greeting to the two stable boys who rushed forward to care for him. Dafydd dismounted lightly, tossing the boys the reins as a Labrador page trotted forward.

"My lord Duke," she said, inclining her head.

Chesh's grin, he'd never get used to being called that.

"Welcome back. We've been expecting you," she continued.  
>Dafydd nodded, wiping at his travel-dirtied face. "Where is she?"<p>

The Labrador didn't ask to whom he was referring; as far as the Champion was concerned, there was only ever one _she_.

"Her Majesty is in her garden," the Page yipped.

Dafydd nodded his thanks before striding off towards the gardens. He very much hoped that, when he'd tracked her down, he would find that Regina had gotten lost in her thoughts again. She looked lovely when her eyes unfocused and her lips curled up in a secret smile. Besides, if she was lost in thought then he could sneak up on her. She was adorable when she jumped.

He paused when he heard a pair of voices laughing. She wasn't alone. And he knew that other voice. Silently cursing his ill luck, he braced himself before turning the corner to see the visuals to accompany the unwelcome noises.

They were dancing. That shouldn't have irritated him as much as it did. Dancing was a perfectly innocent pastime… But the Lion's paw was very familiarly nestled in the small of Regina's back, and with the way she was draped in his arms he was getting quite an eyeful- not to mention a handful- of her assets. They stood far too close together for Dafydd's peace of mind. And Regina's happily sparkling eyes and merry smile…

It had been months since he'd gotten her to smile like that.

The magnitude of his loss hit him at that moment. Regina had lost so much faith in him; she didn't even trust him enough to recall him to his cot at the foot of her bed. She didn't even truly smile for him anymore.

And now he'd left her on her own for a month; hadn't even tried to contact her beyond a perfunctory letter informing her he was extending his visit to Annwyn. In that month, how much further had Leferidae risen in Regina's regard? Did she turn to him for comfort and support? In seeking to do right by his family, had he surrendered his position with Regina, losing her to her leonine adviser?

When the Lion spun Regina, she froze, halting in her steps to stare at him. There was such a curious mix of emotions in her eyes; surprise and confusion and joy and… relief?

"You're home," she stated.

She broke out of Leferidae's arms, taking a hesitant two-step towards him. The briefest of frowns furrowed his brow; well of course he was back. Hadn't he told her when he'd return? Stepping forward, he took her left hand, caressing the ring he'd given her before bending and kissing her hand. He was startled when her grip on his fingers tightened, her knuckles turning white. He looked up at her in surprise, wondering at the cause of her unease.

She smiled shakily, though her eyes were wary. "You came back."

And then, suddenly, it clicked, and he cursed himself for being so blind.

Hadn't he been fighting this fear of hers since their return from the Outlands? Something he'd said to her in his Madness had convinced Regina that Dafydd hated her and resented being in her service. He'd already nearly lost her once because of that fear. And now he'd disappeared on her for a month with hardly any word, leaving her to wonder when, if ever, he'd return. Fates, he was an idiot.

"I promised I would," he reminded her.  
>"But apparently you never promised to be on time," Leferidae commented drily. "You're quite late, you know. The Queen was worried."<p>

Dafydd shot Leferidae a dirty Look, which only worsened when Regina withdrew her hand and floated away from him, taking the other Rook's arm.

"Now now," she chided the Lion gently. "I'm sure Dafydd has a perfectly nonsensical reason for keeping me waiting, and he can tell us all about it over supper. Until then, I have a tyrannical Sparrow insistent upon giving me a tea lesson."

With that, Regina withdrew, humming to herself as she wandered away. Dafydd muttered some half-baked excuse and left, not wanting to spend any more time in his rival's presence than he absolutely had to.

Leferidae watched the Champion go, grinning in abject amusement. It was so blatantly obvious that he was utterly enthralled with the Queen, and she with him! But each was patently unaware of the other's regard; it was like the blind dancing around the blind. How long would the rest of them have to suffer through Dafydd and Regina's needless longing before the lovers [for such they clearly were, in spirit if not in deed] declared themselves?

Oh, this would be entertaining, the Lion thought to himself with relish. Such things always were from the outside, even if they were more rewarding from within. Wouldn't Shadhavar stamp his hoof with envy when Leferidae told him! The Lion would wager the Unicorn didn't have anything near so interesting brewing in Marmoreal…

* * *

><p>Dafydd wasn't sure what had made him jerk awake. A cursory inspection revealed nothing out of the ordinary; everything in his room lay still and quiet. From what he could tell, beyond the door that connected their bedrooms, Regina also lay peacefully. Perhaps it was the silence that had woken him. He still wasn't entirely used to being within-doors, after a lifetime spent out-of-doors. But no, he'd been managing to sleep inside just fine, even after he and Regina began occupying separate bedrooms. So what was causing his unease?<p>

He sighed quietly, sitting up. He might as well patrol the castle; Sleep had apparently abandoned him, the unfaithful tease. Forgoing dressing or weapons, Dafydd padded barefoot to the door. He'd check on Regina first, before he began his prowl of the castle…

He stopped suddenly upon seeing her sitting propped up against the headboard, clearly awake. Her arms were wrapped around her knees, and the moonlight filtering in through the windows revealed her to be clear-eyed and thoughtful. How long had she been sitting here in the dark?

"How long have you been sitting here in the dark?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.  
>"Not long," she replied quietly. "Did I wake you?"<br>He raised his eyebrow in a sardonic Look he wasn't entirely certain she could see. "You're quiet as a mouse," he said drily, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms across his bare chest.  
>She shot him a Look right back. "According to you, I talk in my sleep."<br>He grinned. "Maybe that's why I woke up, because I couldn't hear you babbling to me."

She rolled her eyes, but a faintly amused grin crossed her face. He'd accept it. Pushing off the doorframe, he ambled over to her, sitting at the foot of her bed.

They sat in silence for a long time, relaxing in each others' presence. They didn't discuss his family, or what Annwyn was like. The topic was there, lying heavily between them, but they didn't broach it. Perhaps they never would speak of it. Perhaps Annwyn was a part of Dafydd's life that Regina would never share, a burden she couldn't help him carry.

Perhaps it didn't matter. Perhaps it all paled in light of the fact that Dafydd hadn't left his home in Annwyn, that he had instead left Annwyn to return home.

"I'm glad you're home," Regina said softly.  
>"So am I," he returned just as quietly.<p>

They weren't entirely alright yet. He hadn't fully earned back her trust. But he'd come home. For now, it was enough.

* * *

><p><strong>Translation Notes<strong>: As usual, I can't promise that this is exactly right; online translators, and all. These words are a jumble of Irish Gaelic, Scots Gaelic, and Welsh.

Refreshers:  
>mathair: mother<br>athair: father  
>banríon: lady<p>

ewythr: uncle  
>brawd: brother<br>nai: nephew  
>Fyddaf yn dychwelyd ac aros: I return and remain<p> 


	7. Not So Merry Unbirthday

**Author's Note**: I wasn't originally planning on writing this particular one-shot. I was working on chapter nine of Book Four when I realized that I had never formally introduced two particular characters, and that was a situation that needed to be remedied. And lo, a new chapter of BTP was born.

I will admit that this chapter might feel a tad bit redundant, especially considering some of the events of the last chapter. I apologize about that, but I needed to bang a few more nails in the coffin lid before I sat back and let my poor characters try to fight their way out again. That, and I'm just enjoying watching Regina angst. Yes, I realize that's incredibly cruel of me. Enjoy!

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Afanen's gown: www. rossetticouture tartan 3. jpg  
>Regina's gown: www. gowns- wedding- dresses wedding- dresses images/ v/ 201201/ 13272994170. jpg

**Original Character Face Claim**: Afanen Hightopp is portrayed by Nikki Reed. I apologize for the fact that three of my OC's now bear the faces of actors from Twilight. Blame Kellan Lutz, not me.

**Special Thanks**: As always, thanks to my lovely beta Ranguvar27 for giving this a look-over.

* * *

><p>Had she still been in Upland, things would be progressing quite differently.<p>

Had this been Upland, either at the Ascots' country manor or their elegant London townhouse, her birthday party would have been a premier event of the winter Season. The house would have been immaculately cleaned, appropriately decorated with bunting and candles and flowers- not flowers she actually liked, mind you, but rather whatever was popular this Season. There would have been a bevy of discreet servants, offering refreshments and cleaning away messes. The decorations would have faded into the background as the house filled to overflowing with guests attired in their most elegant getups. The ballroom floor would have been packed with gracefully moving couples, ringed in on every side by haughty dowagers gossiping behind their fans and shy wallflowers half-hoping, half-dreading being approached by the elegant gentlemen. The air would have been so warm as to be stifling, there would be punch everywhere, in the hall would be a pile of presents from insincere well-wishers who were more interested in currying her foster parents' favor.

Most importantly, Jane [as she had then been known] would not have been allowed to hide. Lady Ascot would have kept a hawkish eye on her, ensuring that she danced with all the right young men and made her curtsies to all the influential duchesses and countesses. She would have kept Jane in the spotlight all night long, ensuring that the star of the evening shone as brightly as possible.

She would most certainly not have been allowed to slip away from her own party, to sit hidden in the shadows on the staircase, the skirt of her enormous tartan ball gown billowed around her as her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

At the moment, Regina really couldn't decide what the superior method of observing her nineteenth birthday was.

This whole rigmarole had been Tarrant's idea. What with Regina's kidnapping and subsequent rescue, her ascension to Queenship and her move to Isla Affalin, the Blue Royals never had gotten around to that birthday party they'd intended to throw in Iplam. And so Tarrant had thrown himself into planning a Replacement Birthday Party; an Unbirthday, if you will.

It was a perfect party; at least, it should have been. Certainly Tarrant knew his only child well enough to ensure that everything was exactly the way she would want it. The party had begun in the common lawn of Hatsfield; fairy lights had twinkled from every tree and nearly the entire clan had been in attendance to wish their dywysoges a happy birthday. There had been tea and pastries in lieu of champagne and cake, party games instead of birthday presents.

And then Tarrant had signaled to the musicians to begin the music. He had arranged for a special dance, which would take every Hightopp from the field up to the top of the Brae. The music was a lovely, lilting waltz, and Regina was to lead it.

There had never been a question who she would choose to dance with, but she still smiled when Dafydd walked up to her, looking remarkably confident in his right to claim her hand. Still, she hadn't refused him; hadn't even thought to deny his silent demand. She had given him her hand, sure he could read her heart in her eyes. He'd drawn her into his arms, and they had danced.

It had surely been the most romantic moment in her entire life. She'd felt so safe in his arms, so precious and cherished and beautiful. She was quite sure she hadn't breathed once during the entire dance; perhaps she hadn't blinked, either. She hadn't wanted to miss a single moment of this dance. The entire world had faded away; even the beautiful music and the flowers and the fairy lights had faded, leaving nothing but her and him and them and the Song of the Brae, wrapping around them and drawing them ever closer together, as if it could force them to become one being simply through entwining them in its tuneless music.

They hadn't stopped dancing when they reached the top of the Brae; instead he had swept her along, continuing their waltz as they waited for the rest of the clan to join them. Other couples swirled past them, unheeded; they were lost in their own private wonderland and could not be disturbed.

She would have given anything, literally anything, to persuade Time to allow this moment to last forever. She would have willingly traded all the other moments allotted to her life, if only she could keep this one moment.

But Time was cruel, and he snatched the moment away from her far too soon. The music had ended, and the applause of the Hightopps had broken through the fragile bubble that had sheltered them. They had stepped away from each other, bound only by their locked gazes as the euphoric high of dancing began to wear away and the real world began to intrude upon their perfection again. Dafydd had swallowed hard, her name a rasp on his tongue. She had shivered, tilted her head back-

"Dafydd!"

And then she had jerked, disoriented by the foreign voice that was invading on their private world. She turned, incredulous, about to vent her fury on whomever it was who was daring to interrupt what was so clearly a Private Moment…

But when she saw the woman, all her words vanished. Along with her breath, and all last vestiges of that beautiful moment.

She was utterly, overwhelmingly, impossibly beautiful. Tall and willowy, with just the right amount of curves in all the right places. Hair that was a perfect shade of golden blond, eyes that were the rarest possible shade of violet, a perfect complexion with delicate roses staining her insultingly perfect cheekbones, full pouting lips that just begged to be kissed. Her walk was smooth and confident, her every movement and gesture liquid and graceful. Her tartan gown, while simple in cut, clung to her body beautifully. For one wild moment, Regina wondered whether Aphrodite might not have descended to mingle with the mortals.

But then the woman glanced her over with one quick, slicing look, and completely dismissed her. The instant she turned that predatory gaze on Dafydd, Regina realized with a sinking heart who this woman had to be.

"Afanen," Dafydd said, confirming Regina's fears. "I didn't know you were here."  
>Afanen laughed, a low and intimate sound. "Where else would I be, Dai? It's been a long time."<br>"Um… yeah…" he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Regina, have you met Afanen?"  
>"I… no," she choked out.<p>

She clung desperately to her dignity, but when compared to the statuesque, elegant Afanen, how could she appear as anything but a too-small, too-scrawny little bird? When faced with the woman Dafydd could have had- _had_ had- Regina felt her spirits plummet to her toes. How could she possibly compare to his former Betrothed?

They had made pleasant small talk for a few moments, but honestly Regina couldn't remember what had been said. She had excused herself as quickly as politeness would allow, walking away as quickly as decorum dictated. She kept her head held high and didn't dare to breathe, for fear that if she inhaled she would exhale a sob, and she couldn't bear the idea of crying where everyone could see her.

It was that determination not to let anyone see her cry that gave her the strength to make it to the High House. When Tarrant had arrested her progress, she had made up a story about needing the Necessary and that she'd be back in a tick. Thankfully, he had let her go, and she had fled to the safety of the house. She had gotten halfway up the winding spiral staircase before her legs gave out, and she collapsed onto the rail, resting her head on the banister as she finally released her tears.

It was ridiculous to be crying like this, she silently berated herself. It wasn't as though Dafydd was hers to hold onto, to be jealous of.

Immediately after thinking that, her left hand clenched of its own volition, making her painfully aware of the heavy amethyst ring that hadn't yet left her ring finger. His ring… their ring. He had given her that ring to remind her that he was there, that he would always stand beside her. The ring meant every bit as much as a wedding band; the Vows that bound them together were every bit as sacred. He was hers, and she was his, and it was blasphemy and adultery that anyone should try to come between them.

But… no, he wasn't hers. He was her Champion, yes, but not her husband. And if he wanted to go back to the beautiful, willowy Afanen, there was nothing she could do to stop him. Because she loved him, damn him, and she wanted him to be happy. If Afanen made him happy, how could she stand in the way?

But oh, it would hurt so much to take that fatal step backwards…

She shouldn't be crying like this, she tried to lecture herself. She was missing her own unbirthday party, and for what? An old lover of her Champion's? What did she matter? What did either of them matter? Let them reunite! She didn't care.

Regina winced, unable to even think that lie. She cared. She cared a lot. Enough to be hiding here, in her da's house as she cried, instead of being outside and enjoying her unbirthday party.

"Regina?"

Regina sniffed, wiping her tears and looking up. Alice stood at the foot of the stairs, her face painted in concern. A faint whimper escaped her lips, and instantly Alice was climbing the stairs, settling herself on the step beside her daughter and wrapping her arms around her child. At that silent show of maternal support, Regina had caved, dropping her head onto her mother's shoulder and releasing her tears. Alice, bless her, didn't say a word; simply held on, providing a safe harbor in the storm.

When Regina's sobs had eased to sniffles, Alice still didn't say anything; she merely held Regina, gently stroking her hair and patiently replacing the hairpins that had come loose during the dancing and the escape. With a final shudder, Regina quieted, accepting a handkerchief from her mathair and cleaning herself up.

She drew a deep breath, knowing that Alice was curious, knowing that her mam wouldn't push her until she was ready to talk, knowing that she had to give some sort of explanation for this breakdown that shouldn't have happened on this most perfect of nights.

"I was dancing with Dafydd," she said softly.  
>"I know," Alice nodded, keeping her attention focused on repairing Regina's coiffure.<br>"It was so… _so_."

She might have been embarrassed about her words failing her, were it not for the fact that there simply were no words for what she had felt in that moment. And Alice didn't ask for explanation, so Regina didn't try.

"And then… she came. Afanen," she said dully.  
>"Ah," Alice said softly, the word a sigh.<br>"She…" Regina sighed, her gaze dropping as she picked at her skirt. "She's very beautiful."

A friend might have rushed to assure Regina that really, Afanen wasn't that attractive, that of course Regina was just as beautiful; more so! And of course Dafydd saw that, and hadn't he already walked away from Afanen? Of course everything would turn out like a fairy tale; how could it possibly be anything else?

Praise Underland, Alice wasn't a friend of her own age. Alice was her mama. And more importantly, Alice was Alice.

"Yes," she agreed softly. "Yes, she is beautiful."

Had it been a friend, Regina would have been insulted, would have felt that her friend was siding against her. But when it was her mother agreeing with her… It felt good, to admit the truth. Because no matter what Regina might wish, Afanen _was_ beautiful, and it was good to acknowledge it. Regina might be somewhat attractive, pretty even. But besides Afanen's glorious beauty, she simply faded into insignificance, like a pansy beside a lily. What man in their right mind would settle for a pansy, when there was a lily within sight?

But oh, how it hurt to admit it. To know that simply because she wished it didn't mean that Dafydd would walk away from Afanen to come to her. They were Bound by the Champion's Vow… but compared to the union she wanted, it wasn't enough. Would never be enough.

There was more than enough justification for her body to sag against her mother's, and to close her eyes as the tears began to fall again. And the best unbirthday present she could possibly have gotten was that Alice said nothing; she merely pulled Regina closer and allowed her to cry.

* * *

><p><strong>Translation Note<strong>: As usual, this translation is courtesy of online translators, so no guarantees on its accuracy.

Dywysoges: princess [Welsh]


	8. Obsessions and Anchorages

**Author's Note**: First of all, oh my Absolem I am so sorry I've been gone for so long. I didn't mean to take such a long vacation. My previous place of employment closed this summer, and I had to find a new job. On top of that, I was doing a show this summer, and that sucked up all my time. Seriously, there were days where I didn't eat and barely slept. Things have calmed back down now, so I actually have time to write. I'm very sorry for keeping you waiting so long.

Now, about this chapter. Most of it was written in Central Park, by the Alice in Wonderland statue. In consequence, this has been one of the easiest chapters to write for this story to date. Even if I was looking at the wrong Hatter.

**Disclaimer**: All similarities to previous chapters of this companion story (_Tea Time and Tete-a-Tetes_ and _A Study_ especially) are intentional. In case you haven't noticed it yet, I really enjoy creating parallels and letting everything circle back upon itself in this story.

**Images**: Remove all spaces.

Regina's gown (but of course in purple): media- cache- ec 3. pinterest upload/ 72479875223193868_ xdHMaakr_ b. jpg

**Special Thanks**: As always, a million thanks to Ranguvar27 for looking this chapter over, and for assuring me that Tarrant and Regina aren't as OOC as I think they are.

* * *

><p>Once upon a time, the workshop of the Sapphire King of Witzend had remained locked and silent while its master had been exiled to the Tulgey Wood. The floor-to-ceiling southern-facing window had been covered by thick curtains, the hat fabrics and baubles nestled in the cubby hole shelves on the western wall had been left to fade and fray, and a thick coating of dust had settled over every surface not covered by protective sheets.<p>

A little over eight months ago, the doors to the Royal Hat Shop had been thrown open, and the Royal Hatter had returned to his haberdashery. Once again, the workshop was a bustling, chaotic place. Once again, the hat shop buzzed with the sounds of the Hatter zipping about the room, snatching a fabric here, snickersnackering there, whipstitching and flourishing a new creation before flicking his wrist and Frisbee-ing the hat to a stand with perfect accuracy.

For some families, the heart of their home is their kitchen. For the Hightopp-Clava clan, the heart of their castle was Tarrant's workshop. Cozier than their dining room, less intimidating than Alice's office, Tarrant's ladies were welcome to wander in at any time, curl up in an armchair or the chaise lounge, and sip tea while they watched Tarrant bustle about.

Tarrant clucked to himself happily as he puttered about his workshop, reorganizing his fabrics and making mental notes of needed additions to his collection. Regina's visits had been curtailed recently, on account of having been crowned Queen of Crims and being obliged to move into her own castle. She had instituted a policy of returning home once a week to visit her parents, but having her for tea time and supper once a week wasn't the same as the (all too brief) time when she had been a daily visitor to his shop.

On the other hand, Tarrant supposed that it was a good sign that Regina's visits had decreased to once a week. Upon their return from their misadventures in the Outlands, Regina hadn't so much visited Tarrant's workshop as much as she had lived there. For the first several weeks after their return, Regina had avoided being alone as much as possible; if she wasn't curled up among Tarrant's hats, she was hovering near Alice. The fact that Regina felt secure enough in her safety to only need to return home once a week was a good sign that she was slowly regaining her equilibrium after her harrowing near-death experience. Certainly, he was in no position to complain about having his daughter home; Underland knew he and Alice had missed enough of their bairn's life…

Tarrant sighed to himself, absently fingering a plush corduroy. Yes, he had lost a terrible amount of time with his daughter; had missed hundreds of father-daughter moments. He'd never bandaged her bruised knees, never held her when a nightmare woke her screaming, hadn't helped her pick out her first teapot or taught her her poems and riddles.

Perhaps most importantly for a Hightopp, he had never had the Discussion with her; had never had the chance to prepare her for what was without a doubt the most terrifying moment in any Hightopp's life. Tarrant shuddered as his mind drifted back to those terrible days when he had believed Regina dead, and the miraculous-wonderful-terrifying day of their reunion. From the instant he had caught sight of his daughter, he'd realized that he had been too late; he had never had the chance to have the Discussion with her, and so she had come upon that most horrible Day completely unprepared.

It probably wasn't immediately obvious to anyone who wasn't a Hightopp, Tarrant consoled himself. Regina had done a miraculous job of stitching herself back together after that awful Day; indeed, she appeared almost unchanged. The only physical signs of her experiences were the scar on her side, hidden beneath her bodice, her Aging, and the fact that her eyes had subtly changed color. No longer a pure leaf-green, they were now flecked with gold (but that was an entirely different Discussion, and one which Tarrant was in no way ready to face just yet) and, when the light hit just right, one could see the green and gold tempered by a topaz undertone. Topaz, the color of Hightopp Madness. Tarrant sighed again, unhappily; how sad, that Regina's eyes had been marred by that hateful color so early in her life. How he wished he could have protected her from the family condition for a while longer…

"Da?" Regina asked from her position on the chaise lounge.  
>"Yes, Sugar Cube?" Tarrant murmured, turning towards her distractedly.<br>"Whatever it is you want to talk to me about, would you please just say it instead of flitting about like a bread-and-butterfly? You're making me all mimsy."

Tarrant focused on Regina, surprised. She said nothing, simply raised her eyebrows expectantly as she shifted on the couch, burrowing more deeply into her purple velvet winter gown, which was richly trimmed with thick, warm fur at neck, hem and sleeves. For the briefest moment, Tarrant allowed himself to be distracted; he didn't like that Regina never seemed to be able to get warm enough…

Tarrant's eyebrows twitched. "How did you-?"  
>Regina shrugged. "I pace when I'm trying to find my words too, you know."<p>

Tarrant smiled ruefully. Good gracious, his daughter really was too much like himself for comfort. Shouldn't it be illegal for a child to be able to read their parent so accurately? Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Sighing resignedly, he gave into the inevitable. He wasn't prepared, but it was time for the Discussion that was too late in coming. Regina had already been offered up to Madness; as her da it was his duty to arm her for that lifelong battle as best he could.

Silently, he motioned her over to the small tea table that was situated before the fireplace. Regina gracefully settled into the other armchair, gratefully positioning her chair closer to the roaring fire. Tarrant drew a deep, steadying breath and began the ritual of preparing tea, grateful as always that the familiar actions granted him a measure of peace and calm. When the tea was safely steeping, Tarrant refocused his attention on Regina, steepling his fingers as he debated the best way to begin this conversation.

"You know we're all a little mad here," he started cautiously.  
>"I've become aware of the fact, yes," Regina said, amused.<br>Tarrant nodded. "And you've gathered, I think, that the Hightopp clan was madder than most."

Regina stilled, her smile fading as she slowly nodded. Tarrant watched as her gaze fell to her hands, staring down at her palms as if they repulsed her. His heart lurched in pity for her; though she had said next to nothing about her time in the Outlands, he knew thanks to Alice what she'd had to do to survive, knew exactly what substance Underland had removed from her hands when she took the White Vow.

"I don't know why our clan is so cursed with the Madness," he began, pouring their tea. "I don't know if it's always been this way for us, if we brought it with us from the Old Kingdom or if it developed when we came here. And I don't know why it's different for each of us. Maybe we knew, once, and now we've forgotten, or maybe it's a riddle without an answer. Either way, every member of our clan was afflicted with Madness, one way or another."

Regina nodded slowly, but didn't look up at him as she played with the fur on the edge of her sleeve. Tarrant flipped off his Hat, fiddling with the brim as he continued.

"Our Madness is always a part of us, from the moment of our inception," he said, trying to remember exactly how his da had explained this to him all those years ago when it was his turn. "At first, it's dormant- perhaps a fuzziness to the thoughts, a fixation of some sorts- but it doesn't particularly interfere with our lives."

He paused for a moment, reaching out to catch Regina's fingers in his before continuing.

"But at some point, something traumatic happens. Your heart is broken by an unfaithful friend. Ye watch yer clan be slaughtered. Yoo're throost intae a life-and-death situation an' yoo're forced tae kill in order tae survive."

Regina's head bowed, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs. Tarrant squeezed her hand in silent sympathy, guilty that he had to mention such a painful topic. But this had to be said; she needed to understand.

"Ah dinnae ken why, but it makes us break," he continued, his eyes slowly cycling through colors while his roughened voice rasped on thoughtfully. "An' as suin as there's th' smallest crack ay an openin', th' Madness rises up an' takes control."  
>Regina nodded, struggling to speak through her tears. "It was… so… awful," she managed. "I was… there… in the back of my mind… but I had… no… control. I saw… everything… but I couldn't… stop…"<p>

Tarrant flinched as he drew a sharp breath, his shoulders bowing beneath his fear and pity. Oh, his poor, poor bairn…

Tarrant (and Dafydd too, apparently) enjoyed the kinder form of Madness. The thick, choking Blackness that overwhelmed the senses and left him oblivious to what was happening. Tarrant never quite knew what happened when the Madness took him- terrifying, if his loved ones were at risk, but kinder for him that he wasn't burdened with the memory of the things he did. But Regina had apparently inherited the more dangerous and damaging kind of Madness. To remain cognizant when the Madness took over, to know exactly what one was doing but to be unable to stop… It was this kind of Madness that usually became permanent, that drove its victim to seek methods of escaping their own mind. It wasn't uncommon for those who suffered this form of Madness to eventually take their own lives in desperation…

_Nae_, Tarrant firmly stopped himself. To begin down that rabbit hole of a thought path would only lead to an episode of his own Madness, and that was hardly beneficial. He needed to be calm right now; he needed to be stable enough to shelter his bairn from her sorrows and fears.

"Does it ever get easier, Da?" Regina whimpered, looking and sounding utterly pathetic.

Tarrant hesitated, his heart heavy. Oh, how he wished he could say yes. He'd give anything to be able to smile and rush to reassure her that of course it got easier, that they were all a little mad here and it was nothing to worry about- that it was to be welcomed, celebrated even. But to lie to her would only bring her to worse harm in the end, and so-

"Nae," he said softly. "Ah tauld ye ance 'at ye needed tae learn tae jink wi' yer Madness. Thes is why. Noo 'at it's truly woken up, it willnae ever gang away again. It's a part ay ye noo, an' it's a part ay yer life."

Regina sighed heavily, having obviously expected him to answer in such a manner. As she leaned back in her armchair, Tarrant refreshed her teacup.

"You need two tools, as a Hightopp," he continued. "An obsession and an anchorage."  
>"What's the difference?" Regina asked dully.<br>"An obsession drowns out the Madness," Tarrant replied, sipping his tea. "You fixate upon a task, and the concentration leaves no room for the Madness. For me, that's making tea," he explained. "Choosing the ingredients, heating the water, finding the proper teapot. There's too much to focus on to allow the Madness through."  
>"And the anchorage?" Regina asked a moment later, clearly processing the information.<br>"A safe outlet for the Madness," he supplied. "Something you can create, or destroy, instead of putting yourself or other people at risk. Take your Dafydd, for example," he said thoughtfully. "His anchorage appears to be combat. Although, admittedly, I'm not entirely certain how our clansmen's Madness works," he continued, drumming his bandaged fingers upon the table. "They've been apart from our branch for so long that their Madness might be completely different. Or perhaps, if they've married predominantly within the clan all this time, their Madness is the original and it's ours that's changed since the old days…"

As Tarrant continued his speculation, Regina leaned back in her armchair. She didn't bother asking the question that rang loudest in her mind- couldn't she simply choose to not be Mad? She knew that to be a pointless question; blood will out, as they said. And how could she wish to be other than she was? She was her father's daughter, a child of the Hightopp clan; as Tarrant had said, Madness was a part of her. All she could do was follow her da's advice, and learn to dance with the devil.

It seemed she was in need of a great many tools to survive in Wonderland, she thought grumpily. She already needed a Study to empty her mind… Could that be similar to an anchorage, she wondered suddenly. Though Regina, like Tarrant, was becoming known for her teas, father and daughter approached the beverage from entirely different directions. Tarrant predominantly made teas to correct or balance what he was presented with- calming teas for Alice after spending too long in her office, hearty teas to strengthen Regina through her lessons. Regina, in contrast, brewed teas to escape from or release her thoughts. Teas that she created in anger or anxiety were often unpalatable, but drinking them helped her recognize and release her emotions. Could she use tea to express, perhaps even expel, her Madness?

And if tea could be her anchorage, what then was her obsession? What else did she do that required all of her focus, attention, and concentration?

"Enough of this. Let's change the subject," Tarrant announced. "Shake off your thoughts and tell me a story from the Above. I'm quite fond of your Goose nursemaid. Do children up there really get raised by Animals?"

Regina giggled, obediently launching into Mother Goose's nursery rhymes. Curiously, the more rhymes and children's stories she told, the better she felt; she felt her mind clearing, her spirit calming. She'd not felt this at ease since before she'd been kidnapped…

And thus it was that the Queen of Hearts found the tools she needed to dance with her Madness.


	9. Nightmares and Nocturnes

**Author's Note**: I can't possibly say anything about this chapter that could top what my wonderful beta said upon reading it: "IT'S SO FLUFFY!"

**Disclaimer**: Dafydd's version of the mythology is owned by myself and my dear friend Sandra.

You will never know how much it pains me to have Regina compare Dafydd to Lancelot. She may love him; I do not. I had to disown her as my character for an entire day because of what she did.

**Special Thanks**: Thank you, Ranguvar27, both for beta'ing this chapter and for making me crack up in the middle of a busy Starbucks when I read your comment.

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><p>Dafydd had never been a particularly deep sleeper. It came with the territory of being a warrior; he'd been trained to sleep lightly, to be able to stir at the least disturbance and to be ready to leap up and be in battle mode at a moment's notice.<p>

Once, he had slept outside, or in thin leather tents. It had been rather noisy, but he had learned how to tune out the sounds of desert animals and camp activity. He knew what a quiet night sounded like, and so it was obvious to him when he heard a foreign noise.

Sleeping indoors was much quieter; too quiet. Especially now that he wasn't sharing a room with Regina. The quiet was so oppressive that he'd taken to sleeping with all the windows open, just to have something to listen to. Never mind that it was winter; he simply needed white noise.

As he jolted awake, Dafydd winced. He positively loathed it when that particular noise woke him.

Moving silently on bare feet, Dafydd crossed the room and opened the door connecting his suite to hers. The room was shadowed, but it was so quiet that the sounds of Regina shifting restlessly and whimpering in her sleep were deafening.

Brow furrowed in empathy, Dafydd walked over to the bed, leaning over and gently smoothing the backs of his fingers over her forehead. His frown deepened at how cool she was to the touch; not again…

With a gasp, she startled awake, eyes wide as she panted in terror. Shushing her softly, Dafydd stroked her face and arms, much as he would soothe a spooked Horse. As she caved in on herself and her pants turned to soft sobs, Dafydd sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her into his arms. He shivered slightly as she clung to him; by the Butterfly, she was cold. But he didn't let go; he pulled her closer, letting her steal his warmth as he offered her his strength.

As unhappy as he was that she was suffering from another nightmare, Dafydd couldn't help but rejoice in how close they were. This was easily the most contact they'd had in months, and he gloried in the knowledge that it was the middle of the night and they were alone. He could hold her like this for hours, and no one would interrupt them. She wasn't shying away from him for once, and he would take full advantage.

As Regina's sobs eased, Dafydd gently rubbed her back. He didn't bother asking her what the nightmare had been about. She never told him, but she didn't have to; he would never tell her, but sometimes she babbled through her screams of terror. He'd learned more about what had befallen her in the Outlands by overhearing her night terrors than she'd told him when she was awake.

With a final sigh, Regina quieted, wearily laying her head on Dafydd's shoulder. When he moved to lay her back down, she clung to him, burying her face in his neck.

"Will you stay?" she whispered.

He froze, hardly daring to believe his ears. She pulled back enough to look up at him, her eyes large and tumultuous.

"Please?" she whispered. "I just… I don't want to be alone tonight."

He nodded, not fully trusting his voice. As Regina settled back into her pillows, he stretched out on the bed beside her, turning so they faced each other. He watched her as she curled up on her side, her face almost as pale as her pillow. Silently, he sighed; unless he calmed her down, she'd never fall back asleep.

"Did I ever tell you about King Arturias?" he asked softly.

Regina silently shook her head, looking mildly intrigued. Grinning faintly, Dafydd propped himself up on his elbow, reaching out to tuck her more securely into the blankets before beginning the tale.

"Legend has it that he was High King of Underland, before our people and the Adamasi arrived," he said, keeping his voice low and soothing. "Beloved through the entire land, he was both a warrior and a scholar, a sage and a poet. He and the Quarter Kings led the people into a golden age of peace and prosperity."

"The Quarter Kings?" Regina asked. "Who were they?"

"Arturias' deputies," he answered. "Gareth, the Lion of the North; Ambrose, the Basilisk of the East; Uries the Unicorn of the South; and Dafydd, the Gryphon of the West."

Regina's lips quirked in a smile. "You're named for a King? Tell me about him."

"He ruled what became Witzend," Dafydd said, trying to remember the stories about his namesake. "He was crowned when he was little more than a boy, but he became the greatest warrior in Underland, second only to Arturias. They were great friends, Dafydd and Arturias. For all his virtues, Arturias was a hothead and arrogant, and Dafydd was the one to pull him back and bring him back to reason. Dafydd in his turn had a tendency to nurse grudges and fall into dark broods, and Arturias was able to lighten him back up. They argued often, but they always held each other in the highest respect. Dafydd's third son, Cormack, even became one of Arturias' Knights."

"He was married, then?" Regina asked, her eyes ever so slightly hazy with sleep. "What of his queen?"

Dafydd shook his head, a crooked grin flashing over his face. "She was a different kettle of onions. And I'm not starting their story."

"Why not?" Regina pouted.

"Because I know you and your romances," Dafydd retorted, grinning. "You won't sleep until it's over, and theirs is a story that never ends. Instead, I'll tell you about a time when Dafydd and Arturias decided to go hunt a Jabberwock…"

He didn't even make it to the Kings confronting the Jabberwocky before Regina had fallen back asleep. Dafydd trailed off, listening to her breathing to ensure that she truly was asleep before he stroked her face again. He nodded to himself, satisfied; the cold had eased its grip on her, thank the Fates. She was peaceful, and warming back up; he'd accept that. Pulling the blanket higher around her, Dafydd leaned down to whisper in Regina's ear.

"Dafydd's queen was named Aisling," he whispered, gently resting his head against her temple as the old words of the legend rolled off his tongue. "It means 'dream'. A proper name for her, because she was his every dream and wish and desire. Her hair was like burnished flame, her eyes as green as the hills of the Oversea kingdom from whence she'd come. Dafydd loved her from the moment he first laid eyes on her, and for all the long years of their lives he was conscious of no woman but her." Succumbing to the impulse of the moment, Dafydd pressed a kiss to Regina's temple. "Sleep, my Aisling," he whispered, before laying beside her and falling asleep to the lullaby of her gentle breathing.

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><p>Regina had always been something of a deep sleeper. This had always suited her just fine; with deep sleep came wonderful dreams and nocturnal adventures.<p>

The dreams weren't nearly so wonderful, now. Every night as Regina closed her eyes, she prayed to the Spirit of Underland that she wouldn't dream at all; that she could simply get the rest that was so terribly elusive. But more often than not, she would have nightmares that would leave her shaking and panting upon her waking.

Sometimes, though, it wasn't her nightmares that woke her.

During those horrible, awkward, distant months when Regina and Dafydd had slept apart, Regina had sometimes been woken by the sounds of Dafydd's nightmares. She had laid awake in the night, staring up into the canopy as tears lazily trickled from her eyes as she kept vigil, silently sitting awake with him and waiting for the sounds that indicated that he'd finally fallen back asleep before she let herself relax and join him in slumber.

Really, between his nightmares and hers, she was astonished that either of them ever got any sleep at all.

It was simpler now that he'd moved back in where he belonged. They both still had their nightmares, but now instead of having to suffer alone, they would simply crawl into the other's bed, and hold each other while they told stories. Fairy tales and fantasies, mostly; children's tales and whimsy, anything to distract them from the terror and darkness that plagued them when they closed their eyes.

Silently, Regina crawled to the end of her bed, just out of reach of Dafydd's flailing limbs. She waited for him to jerk awake with a hoarse shout before she slipped across from her bed to his. Much though she longed to comfort him, she had learned from experience that if she didn't wait until Dafydd was awake and aware of his surroundings, she would end up being knocked off the bed, with a few bruises for her trouble. She knelt beside him as he sighed, burying his face in his hands as his elbows rested on his knees. Dafydd never cried, like she did; he locked it all away, deep inside himself, so far down that she doubted even he could find it.

She didn't bother asking what the nightmare had been about. He never said a word about them, but he didn't have to. She heard him screaming for Niall enough times to know what memory plagued Dafydd's thoughts and stole his sleep.

When Dafydd sighed, sweeping his hands up into his short hair, Regina gently pushed him back down. Regina's bed was large enough that they could lay side by side comfortably. Dafydd's bed wasn't nearly so large; in order for them to both fit Regina had to tuck herself into Dafydd's side, her head resting on his shoulder. It was hardly proper; if Lady Ascot were here to see it, she would surely have an apoplectic fit. Even Alice, as unconventional as she was, might not be best pleased to see her daughter curled up with a man who was not her husband. But, they weren't in the Above, nor were they in Witzend. They were in their own castle, and there was no one to tell them what was and wasn't proper. And if Regina had to break with propriety in order to comfort her Champion, then consider propriety destroyed.

"I was thinking about King Arturias," she began as he adjusted his arm beneath her head. She knew it would be a while before he answered, but she also knew that he was listening, so she forged ahead without waiting for him to comment. "We have stories like that, Above. Except his name is Arthur. He didn't have Quarter Kings, which is a shame," she said thoughtfully, absently tracing a faint, thin white scar along Dafydd's collarbone (the souvenir, he had told her, of an ill-advised sparring match against his brother Andras when they were children). "But he did have Knights. They were revered throughout all of England for their chivalry and bravery. They all had fantastic adventures- slaying dragons, fighting enchantments, seeking treasures, righting wrongs."

"Who were his Knights?" Dafydd asked, staring up at the ceiling.

"Oh, let me think," Regina said, pursing her lips. " There was Kay, Arthur's foster brother. Some stories say he was jealous and dark, but others say he was a gentle giant. Gawain was one of Arthur's cousins, the boldest and most outspoken of them. Galahad was the purest of them. I never really liked him; I always thought him quite stuck-up and priggish. There was Griflet, who returned Arthur's magical sword to the Lady of the Lake after Arthur died. Percival adventured with Galahad to find the Holy Grail. Then there was Lancelot. He's quite tragic."

"Why?" Dafydd asked, turning his head to look at her.

"Lancelot was Arthur's dearest friend," she began slowly, her eyes unfocusing as she lost herself in the story. "And yet, he fell in love with Arthur's lady wife and queen. Her name was Gwynhwyfar. She was the most beautiful woman in Christendom. Lancelot was named the Queen's Champion, and for long years he defended her from all danger, and wore her colors in all the tourneys. Some say that Gwynhwyfar and Lancelot were caught in an evil enchantment by a sorceress, but I never thought so. We're helpless to choose where we lose our hearts. And they paid the price for their love. Lancelot was shamed before Arthur and his knights, and was driven from Camelot. Gwynhwyfar left Arthur and retired to a convent, never to see her husband or her lover again. Everyone was punished for their love."

Dafydd made a face. "That's horrible. I like my version better."

"Yours does seem to have more happy endings," Regina agreed. "But I daresay my knights had better adventures. Let me tell you about the time Lancelot and Ector went to hunt a dragon…"

She lost herself to her obsession, spinning the tale for them both. When she came back to herself, she found that Dafydd had fallen back asleep. For a long moment, she lay silently, just watching him. During the day, Dafydd was always so closed off, so guarded and in control of himself. But in sleep, his control eased, and he seemed so much younger and vulnerable. Part of her wished that she could keep Dafydd like this; remove the guilt that burdened his conscience and the dark memories that plagued his sleep. And yet, if she took those demons from him, he would no longer be truly himself; not quite the man she loved. What a sad paradox. Sighing softly, Regina curled back into Dafydd's side, whispering so quietly it was barely audible.

"I think I prefer your version, too," she confessed. "Mine is all tragedy. Arthur and Morgaine, Lancelot and Gwynhwyfar, Elaine. Elaine used to be my favorite, you know," she said, lips twisting bitterly. "I thought it was terribly romantic, that she pined for Lancelot and died of a broken heart. It's not so romantic now that I'm living it," she sighed. "No one in those tales got a happy ending, and I… oh, how I want one." Sighing again, Regina looked up at Dafydd, before placing a soft kiss over his heart. "Sweet dreams, my Lancelot."


	10. Anxieties About Additions

**Author's Note**: This chapter gave me a lot of trouble. Alice and I did not agree on how to handle her internal monologuing, or her reactions, or how to end this chapter. It was to the point where I had to walk away from this chapter and write the next one, just to clear my head so that I could try again. But now that it's been mercilessly written, rewritten, beta'd, edited, re-rewritten, re-beta'd, and re-edited, I'm much happier with it. Hope you enjoy!

**Special Thanks**: A million thanks to my amazing beta Ranguvar27 for beta'ing this chapter twice and giving me such helpful suggestions on how to improve it.

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><p>The winter sunlight could hardly be called warm, but at least it was determined today. It muscled its way through the thick cloud cover, bravely making its way through to illuminate the day.<p>

Alice truly appreciated the sun's efforts. It had been a long, hard winter this year. Alice wasn't certain what had happened to make Winter so angry with Underland, but she had exacted her revenge with a vengeance. Blizzard upon ice storm upon bone-chilling cold upon breath-stealing wind; it seemed as though there hadn't been a day of peace. Alice was quite sure she hadn't seen Winter in a temper this bad since the year Regina was born.

Speaking of her daughter, Regina was home on one of her weekly visits. Regina didn't seem to be experiencing any undue effects of the cold today, and was currently outside with her father. Her Champion was out there somewhere too, but Alice kept her attention on her family. They were bundled in several layers of thick wool and warm furs; it was still bitterly cold, but they were taking advantage of the sunshine to get some fresh air. They had started out simply taking a walk, and somehow that had degenerated into a snowball war between Regina, Dafydd and the Fearail and Tarrant and Alice's personal guard, her Suits.

Normally, Alice would be right out there with them, yelling like a barbarian and throwing snowballs. However… She laid a hand on her stomach, closing her eyes and breathing slowly through the nausea. Blast the Flowers, in the Aboveground this likely only would have been a problem in the mornings, not at sporadic times during the day and night. In her current state she could barely walk, let alone sprint about. She didn't remember this being quite so difficult the last time around; had she been this sick with Regina?

When she and Tarrant were newly married, they had spent many a long hour spinning dreams about the family they meant to start. They had planned out grand adventures for their large brood; in those days they had longed for a dozen children, enough to fill the (soon to be rebuilt, hopefully) High House in Iplam.

But the months had passed, and Alice had failed to conceive— though not for lack of trying. At first, Tarrant had been jovial. _We're still young, Raven_, he'd croon, stroking her abdomen. _We've plenty of Time_. But as months turned into a year, then two, then three, it had become harder and harder to wait. For all of Alice's successes as a Queen, this triumph eluded her, and it was unendingly frustrating. Though Tarrant kept his spirits high, she knew how badly he wanted a child, and it killed Alice that she couldn't give him one.

In the fourth year of their barrenness, they had gone to Mirana for help. Perhaps there was something wrong with one of them, or maybe Abovegrounders and Underlandians couldn't cross-mate. Or, perhaps they were just in need of the White Queen's alchemy.

Mirana had combed through her massive library, consulted with Absolem and the Cheshire, tried tinctures and potions until she had exhausted the supplies in her kitchen. While she had found no significant biological differences between those Above and Below, neither could she find a reason why Alice and Tarrant hadn't conceived a child. And though she'd had high hopes for several of the potions she'd concocted, they had ultimately been fruitless. Over a year of Mirana's efforts and research, and still no baby.

It became a game between Alice and Tarrant to list reasons why they couldn't conceive; a bittersweet joke that made the disappointment easier to bear.

"Perhaps the Jabberwocky cursed its blood, to keep us from living on when it was killed," Tarrant mused.  
>"Maybe you Futterwackened too hard," Alice retorted.<br>"You think you're dreaming again, and you haven't dreamed the bairn in yet."  
>"The mercury affected more than your mind."<br>"She objects to your aversion of hats."  
>"He objects to that tea blend."<p>

It was Tarrant who finally figured it out, after Alice sighed and said, _Perhaps it simply isn't time_. Time… Time… Of course! Of course it was Time! Tarrant couldn't have children, because Tarrant had no Time to give them. Time was frozen for him; he was trapped in tea-time, so he had no make-a-baby-time. He had spent a long and bitter night sitting awake and grieving that knowledge; never had he regretted his quarrel with Time more.

When Tarrant informed Alice of his shame the next morning, he had expected her to turn him out. If he couldn't even give her a child, what use was he as a King or as a husband?

Of course he should have figured that Alice would instead square her shoulders and clench her jaw, view this as a challenge to be conquered by the Champion.

Alice had never considered what she'd done to be a sacrifice. What was her Time worth, if it could be put to better purpose— given to their child? Alice would happily sacrifice as much Time as was needed, if that Time could be better used by her baby. Tarrant would do no less, were their situation reversed. So Alice had given her Time, and in exchange, during the seventh year of their marriage, she and Tarrant had been given Regina.

Regina would always be the accomplishment of which Alice was most proud. Now, more than ever, Alice thanked Underland every day for the miracle that was her daughter's life.

The thought that another little miracle was soon to enter her life was nearly overwhelming. She hadn't exactly meant to… alright, that was a complete lie. She had meant to. The thought had been at the forefront of her mind for months now; ever since Mirana had triumphantly announced that Crims had accepted Regina and that her daughter would someday be crowned Queen of Hearts. After all that lost time, the knowledge that Alice was going to lose her daughter again had been a bitter blow, and from that moment on, Alice had begun thinking… Well. Wishing, really. Perhaps she should have been more careful about this particular wish… at least until she and Tarrant had actually talked about the possibility of maybe, possibly…

Ah well, Alice shrugged to herself. It was too late to worry about it now. Zhithene had prophesized it, and it had come to pass. Her Time was already gone, already given. Alice might not be showing yet, but she knew the Truth.

She wondered what he or she would be like. Regina was so very much like her father; would this child be more like her? Or would he or she take after Alice's father, or perhaps a member of Tarrant's family…?

Stroking her still-flat-for-now stomach gently, Alice looked back out the window, her eyes seeking out her daughter and her husband. She'd have to tell them, she knew; it wasn't fair to keep this joy to herself. Truth be told, she wasn't sure why she hadn't told them the moment she suspected she might be with child. And she was going to tell them, she was. Just… She needed to conquer her own fears, first.

Not that she was afraid of telling! No, she knew Tarrant would be over the moon about having another child, the fact that Alice had sacrificed more Time notwithstanding. It was just… For all her success as Champion and Queen, Alice had done a rather terrible job of being a Mother. Regina had suffered enough because of Alice's choices; what if she did just as horrible a job with this baby? What if she irrevocably screwed up another child? Maybe she just wasn't meant to be a mother…

But it was a bit too late for that, she reflected ruefully. Soon, she would be bringing another child into the world. This time, she intended to keep it; she wouldn't allow another babe to be stolen from her arms. They'd been given a second chance, after that horrendous misadventure in the Outlands. Alice and Regina reconciled… Alice and Tarrant finally reunited… The queendom secure… And now they were to be blessed with an expanding family. It was a miracle, wasn't it? Something to rejoice in, to celebrate, to be so incredibly grateful for?

Yes, there was no question that she would tell her family their happy news. The only question was how to do it.

As soon as Alice thought that question to herself, she slapped herself for her foolishness. They were Hightopps; there was only one proper way to make this announcement.

When a snow-soaked, chilled to the bone Tarrant, Regina and Dafydd came back inside, they were greeted by Helbit, one of the Fish Pages.

"Her Majesty has ordered a tea spread for you," he announced. "If you'd like to change into dry clothes, it should be ready for you upon your return."

Half an hour later found the royal family seated around a tea table in their family parlor. Alice had insisted that Regina take the place closest to the fire, in an effort to ward off the cold that seemed to overtake her at unpredictable times. If her daughter wasn't as animated as she had been outside, Alice told herself that it was because she was tired from her exertions and not because Dafydd had left the room.

"Come sit down, you two, the tea's just finished steeping," Alice smiled.

Tarrant and Regina exchanged glances before turning similar skeptical, teasing looks on Alice.

"Teacup, did you mix this blend yourself?" Tarrant asked doubtfully, his eyes sparkling.  
>"I am not <em>that<em> bad," Alice defended herself, smiling.  
>"I don't know, Mama, you did manage to confuse tuckleberries with squidinash root," Regina chimed in.<br>"They look practically identical when they're ground!" Alice protested.  
>"But they smell nowhere near alike!" Regina retorted.<br>"That was ages ago," Alice said dismissively. "And anyways, the bottles weren't labeled."  
>"My mistake," Tarrant said, grinning.<br>"Hmph," Alice sniffed. "And in any case, no I did not blend this. I used one of Tarrant's pre-mixed batches. Not even I can mess up preparing a teapot."

Regina giggled, accepting her cup from Alice as Tarrant passed around the basket of scones.

"I have something to tell you," Alice said once they were all situated.  
>"Oh? What's that, Teacup?" Tarrant asked, taking her hand and fingering the pincushion ring he'd placed there so many years ago.<br>Alice cleared her throat, smiling nervously. "You have a teacup to hold your brew and a sugar cube to sweeten it… wouldn't you like a scone to enjoy along with it?"

Tarrant froze, staring at Alice for a long moment. Regina glanced between her parents; she may be half-Wonderlandian, but this conversation made no sense to her.

"I…" Tarrant drew a deep breath, and Alice's heart twisted to see the mingled joy and sadness in his eyes. "Alice, ye shooldnae hae-"  
>"Of course I should have," she cut him off, silencing him with a finger to his lips. "We've always wanted another."<br>"Och aye, but…" Tarrant shook his head and slid off the chair to his knees before her, his eyes swirling with emotions as he struggled to maintain control. "Alice, Ah cannae raise a bairn aloyn."  
>"Oh tush," she tsked. "You won't be alone, Tarrant. I've not given so much Time as all that."<br>Tarrant smiled then, though the sadness was still lurking in the corners of his mouth. "Ah wish Ah hud Time tae gie thes wee one," he murmured, stroking her stomach.  
>Regina's eyes widened as she stared at her parents. "You're expecting?"<br>Alice nodded, her smile blossoming. "Yes."

Regina leaned back in her chair, clearly stunned. Alice bit her lip, watching her daughter adjust to the news, but her attention was distracted by Tarrant leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to her still-flat abdomen. She smiled as Tarrant wrapped his arms around her waist, laying his cheek against her stomach and whispering to their growing child. Oh, she had missed this. Her pregnancy with Regina hadn't been an easy one; the wee thing had never once ceased moving, and it had made Alice so nauseous. But Tarrant had always been so wonderful and supportive; searching the library for recipes she could stomach, rubbing soothing salves into her aching back and ribs. He was such a wonderful provider; she was so happy they got to do this again.

She glanced over at Regina, and was dismayed to see her daughter staring into her tea, her eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions.

"Tarrant, we need to celebrate," she said. "Could you please pull out that champagne we saved-?"  
>"From Regina!" he exclaimed. "Of course! Back in a tick!"<p>

Alice smiled after her wonderfully daft husband as he Futterwackened his way down the hall. Maybe she wasn't the most accomplished mother, but this child had Tarrant for a father, and surely that balanced it out.

When he was safely out of earshot, Alice turned to the daughter she had so severely wronged and disappointed.

"Regina?" she tried.  
>"I'm so happy for you, Mama," Regina quickly said, leaping up to hug her.<p>

Alice hated watching Regina lie, seeing her lock away her feelings and try to put on a brave face. Not for the first time, Alice thanked her lucky stars for the Hightopp eyes; it was impossible for a Hightopp to lie when their eyes always told the truth of their hearts.

"Regina," she repeated softly, in admonishment and encouragement.

For a moment, Alice wondered if Regina would give in and tell her the truth. They may have repaired their damaged relationship, but apart from that one confession about Dafydd that Alice wasn't even certain Regina remembered making, they weren't much for heartfelt discussions. That fell under Tarrant's purview, or— Alice gritted her teeth— Dafydd's. Should she perhaps call for the hulking Outlander? If anyone could wrangle a confession from Regina, it would be him. Even if Dafydd wasn't Alice's favorite person in the world, wasn't Regina's peace of mind more important?

"It's stupid," Regina said softly. "I don't want to spoil your happiness."  
>"I would never think anything you felt was stupid," Alice said, seizing her chance.<br>Regina sighed, leaning back in her seat. "I _am_ happy for you," she began. "I know how much Da wanted another child. And having a little brother or sister… I think that would be wonderful. I always wanted siblings to play with."  
>"But?" Alice pressed gently.<br>"I can't help but feel I'm being replaced," she said quickly, with the air of someone who had to let it out before she convinced herself to keep quiet. "I mean… because you've had so little of me… You didn't get to be a mam, but now there's a baby and you can be… You can make up for what you lost, but I can't, and… I hate myself for thinking this, but I don't want you starting a new family just because you lost the first one."  
>"Oh, sweetheart," Alice sighed.<p>

Alice wasn't a particularly physically affectionate person; that was the British in her. Stiff upper lip, and all that. But she didn't hesitate at all to pull her child into her arms, to press her as close to her heart as she physically could and try to get her even closer.

"It's not true," she said. "Yes, I regret that I didn't get to watch you grow up. I will always regret that, and nothing will ever replace what I lost. Another baby won't make up for the fact that I missed your childhood. Nothing and no one can ever replace what you mean to me, Regina. I have no interest in starting a new family. This baby is just an addition to what we've built, that's all."

At the sight of Regina's tears, Alice pulled her closer, resting her head on her daughter's and whispering comforting words.

"We'll protect this one, won't we?" Regina sniffed, hesitantly touching Alice's stomach. "We won't be broken apart again?"  
>"Never again," Alice vowed. "We won't lose each other, I promise."<p>

* * *

><p>Alice's confidence that everything would be alright lasted her through the rest of the evening, until she was sitting up in bed, resting a book on Tarrant's shoulder while he lay in her lap with his head on her stomach, whispering to the baby. She stared blankly at the words on the page, hardly blinking as her mind raced.<p>

Now that her pregnancy had been spoken of, it felt more real, somehow. And if this was really happening to her, then there were things to plan for, to wish for, to fear.

What if she was too old to safely deliver the baby? Granted, she wasn't Aged any longer, but… If she were in the Above, she would be something like fifty-two now. Well past the age of safe childbearing; Fates, she could have been a grandmother at that age! What if, despite her frozen Aging, it was still unsafe for her to attempt to give birth? What if something happened to the baby?

What if the poor bairn was born Mad?

What standing would the child have in Witzend— would it be the new Crown Prince or Princess, or would he or she become Tarrant's heir in Tearmunn? Would their clan even accept the new baby as a legitimate heir, or would they push for Dafydd to remain Tarrant's heir (was Dafydd even still the tanaiste, or had that reverted to Regina again?)?

What would they do if Underland did indeed try to take another child from them?

What if Alice failed as a mother? What if her child ended up hating her for some mistake or misstep, as Regina had for so long?

There was a dull buzzing in her ears, which didn't register until the book was gently forced from her tight grip. She gasped, looking up to find Tarrant watching her, eyes dark with concern.

"Alice?"  
>"I-I'm sorry," she stuttered, pressing her fingers to her temples. "What did you say?"<br>"Alice, what's wrong?" Tarrant asked, sitting cobbler-style opposite her and taking her hands in his.  
>Alice sighed, biting her lip as she looked down at their interlaced fingers. "Just… thinking. My thoughts took me on a merry chase."<br>"About the baby?" Tarrant prompted.  
>She nodded slowly. "I'm worried," she admitted. "I've never… I missed so much, with Regina," she said, her confession pouring from her lips. "I'm so afraid I don't know how to be a mother, not really. We only had Regina for a few months, and when she came home she was already grown. I don't think I know how to really be a mother."<br>Tarrant pressed a kiss to her hand. "I don't either, my Alice," he said softly. "I expect we'll have a lot to learn together."

She looked up at him, contemplating what he'd said. He was right, of course. If Alice had only had a few months to be a mother, Tarrant had only had the same amount of experience in being a father. It was comforting, to be reminded that she wasn't doing this alone.

"Together," she repeated softly. "You promise?"  
>"I swear it, Teacup," Tarrant nodded. "We'll get along just fine, you and I. Like we always have."<br>"Like we always will," she said, smiling faintly as they pressed their foreheads together.


	11. Moments and Memories

**Author's Note**: Welcome to the last chapter of the Book Two BTP chapters! After surviving Hurricane Sandy [went to spend the storm with my aunt, spent four days without power, only to spend six hours traveling home via two busses, a shuttle, and a subway to learn that my apartment sustained no damage and never lost power], I'm very happy to be back and posting. I hope you enjoy it; I've developed a fondness for using drabbles to tell a narrative.

**Special Thanks**: Many thanks to my fabulous beta Ranguvar27 for looking this chapter over!

* * *

><p>No one could ever accuse Ioan Hightopp of cowardice. Curiosity, cunning, craftiness, carelessness, causticness, yes. But cowardice? Never.<p>

It wasn't fear keeping him from joining Dafydd and Regina on their trip to Marmoreal. He was certainly not afraid of Li- the White Princess.

It wasn't fear. It might have been wariness.

It wasn't like they had parted on especially friendly terms. If he remembered right, Lily had called him a traitor and a usurper. They hadn't really spoken after that argument; certainly she'd never recanted her statement. If she didn't want to see him, why should he travel to Marmoreal?

* * *

><p>He didn't travel to Marmoreal with the intent of seeing Lily. He was there as a Deuce, guarding Regina. It wasn't his fault that Lily came dashing around the corner and bumped into him.<p>

"Oomph-"  
>"Ow-"<p>

They stared at each other for a moment, not speaking, not breathing. Memories of their last encounter flew thick and fast between them.

"You've done a marvelous job of avoiding me."  
>Ioan rolled his eyes. "I was under the impression that you wanted it that way."<br>"Maybe I did," Lily admitted, looking abashed.  
>"You done with that?"<br>"I think so."

And that was that.

* * *

><p>Ioan may have made peace with Lily, but with her family? That was another story.<p>

She was still Adamasi. Still the family that had banished his. Maybe Mirana wasn't as cruel as Aleric, but she hadn't lifted the banishment until it was convenient for her, either.

He may have been willing to overlook history for Lily's sake, but to forget it, to ignore years of conditioning and hatred? Could he forget revenge for her?

And if he couldn't, should he be friendly with the Adamasi scion? If he couldn't forgive the past, should he be trying to forge a future?

* * *

><p>Sometimes, Lily felt as though she was lying.<p>

They would joke and banter, like they had Before, but it rang hollow. Truth was, she wasn't the Lily that had joked and bantered Before. She couldn't be that person, After; had that Lily even been real? Or was she an act she had put on, to escape who she really was?

The Outlands had showed her who she was, and who she wasn't. Sometimes, Lily still got those confused. Was she Champion or Princess, Lily or Adamasi?

And if she couldn't figure it out, how could she expect Ioan to know?

* * *

><p>He tried to ignore her.<br>To lo- like- feel anything about her was a betrayal of his clan.  
>Worse than Dafydd loving Regina.<br>Worse than Dafydd killing Niall.  
>So he tried to ignore her. Really.<br>But Lily Palladia Adamas refused to be ignored.

She should ignore him.  
>His family hated hers.<br>He'd made it clear that he resented her "help" in the Outlands.  
>She's not even sure they were who they claimed to be.<br>It's Madness to lo- like- think of someone who hated you.  
>She should hate him for driving her Mad.<br>But how could she ignore Ioan Hightopp?

* * *

><p>From a distance, Ioan and Lily spy.<p>

They're in the kitchen, covered in flour; the counters bear witness to the ruined scones. They're laughing, and dancing, staring into each others' eyes and hearts, and it's so beautiful that it makes Lily's eyes water.

Ioan shakes his head. "When will they just give in and admit it?"  
>"Some people can't reach out and take what they want."<p>

_Deep breath; take the plunge._

"Are we that stupid?"

She looks up at him, not breathing. He stares back, makes his decision, and places his lips on hers.

From a distance, Regina smiles. "Finally."

* * *

><p>Her family is more than happy for her, rejoices in her happiness. His, not so much.<p>

He's welcomed into the White Court. She is not welcome at Tearmunn.

Those who love Lily approve of her choice; they love that Ioan grounds her, challenges her, fights her, calms her. Those who love Ioan are disappointed; think him opportunistic, a traitor to his family and their beliefs.

Really, the decision for Ioan to make a new home in Marmoreal is only difficult because it means leaving Dafydd and Regina. And even that is only difficult until Dafydd takes the choice from him.

* * *

><p>Nerissa pauses in the hallway, tilting her head. Raised voices, <em>crash<em>, _bang_… A moment later the door opens, and Ioan strides out, a scowl darkening his face. Lily hurls one final insult after him and slams the door shut.

Nerissa giggles.

She shouldn't be so entertained; Ioan and Lily's arguments are loud enough to echo through the entire castle. It's hardly a harmonious romance; indeed, it's the rockiest courtship Nerissa has ever heard of.

That makes her happy. She likes that they fight each other so often; it means that when the time comes, they'll fight _for_ each other, too.


	12. I See the Light

**Author's Note**: Wow, a _BTP_ chapter that belongs in the midst of the action of the Story Proper! This chapter belongs right after _TWC 3:4_, Lines in the Sand. As with all of these _BTP_ chapters, this isn't so much a story-developing moment, but a moment for character introspection. There is literally nowhere within the Story Proper that I can place these ruminations without sidetracking my momentum. Hence, _BTP_.

**Special Thanks**: Many thanks to my wonderfully supportive beta, Ranguvar27, for being so encouraging when I was uncertain whether this chapter got across the emotions I wanted it to. Your feedback is always appreciated!

* * *

><p>Regina sat on the dais to her throne, utterly still, silent. Her eyes saw beyond her Hall; her thoughts flew from the land of her birth, returning to the land of her rearing, trying to understand what Time's passage meant.<p>

2009. Not 1895. By the Butterfly, so long…

She had never really given thought to what it meant, choosing Wonderland above London. That she would be leaving her foster family behind, never to see them again or even to say goodbye… to abandon them to Time's caprices… She hadn't understood, until now, exactly what she had sacrificed.

None of them were left, now. All her family, long dead and buried and possibly forgotten. Did anyone remember their names, honor their memories? Did the Company— legacy of her foster father, her grandfather— still thrive?

She was left behind, alone, a relic of a bygone day. Born to the Underground but raised Above, and now the only remaining memory of the land of her childhood. Even in the days when she hadn't known who she was, Regina had never felt quite so alone.

"Forgive me," she whispered to the ghosts, hoping they heard. "I didn't understand what it meant to leave you."

* * *

><p>The servants whispered, curious and cautious and confused as they followed the listless, aimlessly wandering Queen.<p>

The Cards and Suits exchanged glances, wondering if perhaps their Lady wasn't quite as pleased by the outcome of the Joust as she pretended.

Whispers flew on the breeze, landing amongst the townsfolk and planting the seeds of rumors. The Queen of Hearts had ordered a feast, a celebration to fete the end of the Suitors' Joust, but the Queen's heart seemed anything but merry.

Regina wandered through her palace, trying not to scowl at her people, fighting the urge to shake them, screaming at them until they understood. Why should they understand? Their world was unchanged; their lives were untroubled by the sorrow that had clouded Regina's thoughts and feelings. That was as it should be; this was her sorrow to bear, her grief to feel. How could her people understand the sorrow she felt, the anger that Time had played such a trick?

And oh, she was angry; furious with Time for having stolen her foster family from her. Regina hadn't been happy in their care, but they had been the only family she had known for eighteen long years, and now Time had stolen them from her.

Aye, Time had stolen them, but only after she herself had forsaken them. She had blithely set them aside with barely a thought, leaving them behind to disappear into Wonderland. How could she have been so blind? And yet, how could she choose differently than what she had done? She had never belonged Above; this was her true path.

But oh, how it hurt to know that she had to pay for her place in Underland with the Time of those she had loved and left Above.

How dare Time leave her an orphan?

* * *

><p>The study didn't smell right; there was too much of the outdoors, not a whiff of pipe tobacco. The windows were set wrong, the size of the room not quite right. But there was nowhere else that Regina could contemplate even attempting to mourn the loss of her foster father. All her best memories of Papa Richard had happened in his study; countless hours of letter-writing, tea-taking and story-telling. Now, alone in Dafydd's abandoned study, Regina bent her head and shed silent tears for his memory, and the knowledge that she had left him behind, a Solomon without his Sheba.<p>

Irrationally, she found herself wishing fiercely for her da's presence. Strange, perhaps, to wish for one father to help ease the grief of losing another. But it seemed that Regina had ever been a daddy's girl; Tarrant would understand, as none other could, how bereft she was at the thought of losing a father to Time.

Or was it unfaithful, to grieve so for her foster father when her blood father still lived? Tarrant truly had lost his family; Regina's was hale and whole. Should she relinquish the Ascots to Time's embrace, be content that her true family was safe?

* * *

><p>As Clover and Azalea fussed and clucked over her, Regina sat still and tried not to be annoyed. This was their way; when they sensed their Flower was perturbed, they petted and cosseted to ease her into a milder mood. Normally, it worked; she shouldn't be aggravated that they failed.<p>

She stared at her reflection in the glass, hearing eighteen years' worth of criticisms crashing over her head. Mother Agnes had never been satisfied with her, she remembered; always there had been something wrong, something ripe for improvement. It had been exhausting, and frustrating, always seeking approval but never earning it. Strange that she should miss it so tonight.

The ironic thing was, she owed so much of her much-lauded "royal bearing" to her foster mother's constant criticisms. Regina couldn't decide if that was funny or sad. Mother Agnes had always been unsatisfied; Regina had spent a lifetime trying to please her. Would Lady Ascot be amused that her legacy was as the voice in Regina's head, silently coaching her foster daughter as to how a princess ought to behave? She hadn't been able to raise a lady; would she be content that she had at least created a queen?

* * *

><p>She stood in the ballroom, and wondered if anyone danced through the halls of Ascot Manor.<p>

She listened to the musicians, and remembered the night she had left for Wonderland. She never had gone back to dance with Lord Whatshisface…

She danced with her athair, and despite the pain that she could never waltz with Papa Richard again, she couldn't dampen the thrill that she had a father to dance with.

Her Ladies smiled at her admiringly, and she was grateful that Mary would never torment her again.

She wondered how long she would be haunted by memories of Before.

* * *

><p>She stared up at the stars, blinking back the tears, willing even just one of the heavenly spheres to wink down at her. She vaguely remembered reading a poem in her childhood that declared that stars were in fact the souls of the ones we loved, keeping loving watch over those who remained. Even if it was just a fancy of her (admittedly over-active) imagination, she stared at the heavens with all her strength, praying that she might find the eyes of her lost loved ones looking back at her. Were they watching? Were they proud of what they saw?<p>

* * *

><p>Isla Affalin was aglow.<p>

In the capital streets the townsfolk traded wares and danced, laughed and ate.

In the palace the nobles danced and mingled, celebrating the end of the Joust and the soon-to-be King.

Noble and commoner alike crowded outside, holding each other and staring up at the starry sky as thousands of lanterns floated up into the heavens.

They were commonly known to be a token of jubilation; Regina allowed the fallacy to remain. No one needed to know that they were a symbol of mourning; lights to silently tell her loved ones that she remembered them still.

* * *

><p>Long after the lanterns disappeared into the heavens, Regina remained on her balcony, staring at the lights. Were they stars, she wondered idly, or lanterns? Was she mourning the past, or the present? Were the stars shining, or was the twinkling due to the tears falling lazily from her eyes? Did she regret her choices? Would she really choose to return Above, if she had the option? Did she mourn her separation from her foster family, or only the fact that she had never gotten to say goodbye? Would any of this have been easier, if she had said goodbye? If she said goodbye now, would they hear?<p>

"I know you're lost to Time," she whispered. "But here Below, we have a belief that as long as those left behind hold their lost ones' memories safe in their thoughts, that the lost ones haven't really gone."

She drew a deep breath, tilting her head farther back to take in the stars and the lanterns.

"I won't forget," she promised. "As long as I live, I will hold you safe. You'll live in my mind, and so you won't have died."

Far overhead, the stars twinkled down at her. She smiled.


	13. Symphonies of Dreams and Memories

**Author's Note**: Hi everybody! I'm finally back! See, I told you I wasn't abandoning _TWC_… even if I have been gone for about 10 months. But! I am back now. So let's get the party (re)started, shall we?

There are three _BTP_ chapters leading into Book 4. This is the first, and the shortest, and the most abstract. It's also the one I like the least; I'm not sure I achieved what I wanted to. However, here it is.

Incidentally, every single chapter from now until the very end has been written and is complete. My goal is to post once a week until we're completely finished. So let's strap in and enjoy the next 21 weeks, okiedokie?

**Special Thanks**: Millions of thanks to my fantastic beta Ranguvar27 for agreeing to continue beta'ing for me through Book 4! Also thanks for reassuring me that this chapter isn't as bad as I think it is.

* * *

><p>Regina used to dream, once.<p>

Once upon a yesterday, when she was buried Above and hidden beneath the wrong name, a little girl called Jane had dreams of a place called Wonderland. It was a fantastical place; a world of her very own, where everything was nonsense. Nothing would be what it was, because everything would be what it wasn't (and contrariwise, what it wouldn't be, it would).

In this Wonderland, there would be balls and tea parties that lasted for days, and everyone would see pictures in the clouds. The flowers would tell stories, and no one would find her the least bit odd.

Jane, who all had believed to be an orphaned foundling, knew that her parents lived in Wonderland. In fact, her father was a king. He was tall and grand, with Jane's reddish gold curls and big green eyes. He loved her just as much as Papa Richard did, and paid her all the attention Lady Ascot withheld. Someday, her father would remember she was missing, and he would come for her. She would be home, she'd be a princess, and she would never be lonely again.

Eventually, the girl called Jane made her own way to Wonderland, and managed to save herself. She found her father, who really was a King, and together they returned home to the land her mother ruled. She even learned her real name— Regina Miraget Clava-Hightopp, the Azure Princess of Witzend.

As time passed and she ran into scrape after adventure after misfortune, Regina eventually stopped dreaming. Even a literal land of wonders couldn't seem to equal her fantastic dreams; perhaps it was too difficult for an actual, physical land to conform to aetheric mental flights of whimsy.

So Wonderland became Underland, and Regina settled down to the everyday sorts of problems that arise when most everyone is Mad, including the land itself.

She'd had no idea that the price of returning home was to surrender all of her dreams.

* * *

><p>For most of her life, Alice had been haunted by memories.<p>

She hadn't consciously realized that, of course. Raised in such a muchness-crushing place as London, she had thought them only dreams. She hadn't dared to think that the talking Flowers, cryptic Caterpillar, dangerous Queen, or the singular Mad man were real…

Until the third trip, when she became convinced of it in her deepest core.

Alice had always prided herself on possessing an uncommonly good memory, where matters of whimsy were concerned. Call it the mark of Wonderland on her, but if there was something odd, peculiar or Mad afoot, it was certain to find her, and she was guaranteed to remember it for the rest of her days.

But when it came to Wonderland Itself, Alice's lauded memory had done her a great disservice.

Perhaps it was because she was relying upon a child's recollections, and a child's understanding of a quite alien world. Or perhaps Wonderland really had degenerated just so much in the intervening years between her second and third visits. Whatever the underlying reason, the fact remained that Wonderland was fundamentally different to how she remembered it. Darker and more dangerous, leached of its brilliant colors and its wild magic, it no longer seemed a land of wonders. It was instead a desolate, Mad place, which seemed broken beyond recall.

When Alice returned to Underland to stay, she stopped trying to remember the Wonderland of her youth. Who could say whether she was even remembering the place properly? Maybe it had always been like this, and as a little girl she simply hadn't understood. Either way, this was the Underland she had to live in now; she might as well make the best of it, rather than long for a place that may have only ever existed in her mind.

* * *

><p>So which, then, is more deceiving?<p>

Dreams are confusing, misleading, amorphous. Dreams disturb peace and haunt the dreamer for days and years after. Men have thrown away their lives and utterly ruined themselves to chase after the merest wisp of a dream that, in the end, may yet remain utterly unattainable.

And yet, dreams can be hopeful things; an ideal and a goal to strive for, a clarion call to build upon. For some people, all they have are their dreams of a better future.

Memories are warped, faded, untrue to what happened. Memories morph over time, and it is all too easy to breed details and insights and portents that did not exist in the live moment. All too often, memories show what one wishes to see, rather than what truly occurred.

And yet, we build our whole lives on memories; memories of correct behavior, consequences and rewards for past behaviors informing our present and future actions, peoples of the present day building on the memories of what came before.

Which, in the end, is crueler— Regina's dreams of what Wonderland might be, or Alice's memories of how she thought it was?


	14. Six Cups of Tea

**Author's Note**: A thousand apologies for how long it's taken me to get this chapter out to you. I've had problems getting in touch with my beta through November, and then I had some RL personal issues to deal with. This chapter is unbeta'ed, but I wanted to post it, so here it is. I'm quite fond of this chapter; I like that it's non-linear, and hey! It's Alice/Tarrant centric for once!

* * *

><p>That the Hatter was Mad, no one contested. The man was, more often than not, entirely lost in his own world and utterly oblivious to the realities of his physical environment.<p>

However, Tarrant had absolutely no trouble understanding the significance of the abandoned corridor leading toward the Blue Queen's study.

He was Mad, not Stupid.

Or maybe he was Stupid, considering that he was determinedly headed toward the lion's den instead of running in terror.

By instinct, he ducked as he opened the study door – a good thing, too, or he'd have a clock-shaped bump on his noggin.

"Sweet and dainty as ever, My Alice," he said mildly, breezing past his _frumious_ wife.

He was dimly aware of Alice ranting and raving behind him, but she was easily tuned out as he deftly mixed together ingredients and set them to steep.

"Well Teacup, you're as out of sorts as that Bandersnatch of yours," he commented, imperiously holding out a hand. "Come sit at table like a civilized Mad woman and drink your tea."

He knew better than to ask what calamity had put her in such a mood (Mad, not Stupid). Instead he handed her a filled teacup and launched into a faithful(ish) recounting of the simply ghastly hat Lord Puffinstuf was hounding him to craft. Honestly, who thought that _lime green velveteen_ suited his olive complexion?

When Tarrant slipped out of Alice's study one Tea-time later, she was once again her sweet, muchful self, and back to productivity.

Really, why did the servants scurry away in terror when all one had to do was serve Alice a proper cup of tea? Was everyone in this castle Mad but him?

* * *

><p>Tarrant rapped lightly on the bedroom door before cautiously sticking his head in. "Teacup? How do you feel?"<p>

A pained groan was the only reply.

Wincing, he approached on soft feet. The drapes were still pulled, a basin stood ready on the table, and Alice herself was huddled in bed, pale and miserable.

"I'm dying," she moaned piteously.  
>"I'm so sorry, My Alice." He kept his voice pitched low, cool fingers on her clammy brow. "Can I fetch you anything?"<br>"I don't suppose there's a tea for this?" she asked.

He pursed his lips, thinking through the blends he'd learned at his da's knee. Perhaps…

He crossed to his tea ingredient chest as Alice awkwardly hoisted her swollen body up. He tensed, wincing in sympathy as she brought up the remains of supper, then carried her a lukewarm cup of tea. Alice took it gingerly, sighing in relief as the first sip went down. Soon, the entire cup was drained.

"A true Hightopp," she smiled weakly, rubbing her pregnant belly. "Your tea is the only thing she'll let me keep down."  
>Tarrant leaned down to press a kiss to Alice's stomach, where their daughter lay hidden. "Behave, ye wee terror."<p>

* * *

><p>Tarrant wasn't sure what it was about her.<p>

Just a wee child; not more than six or seven. She wasn't much to look at, untidy hair and enormous, wondering eyes. She was conceited and stubborn and proud, as contrary a spitfire as he'd ever seen.

Yet… There was something in the tilt of her head, the flash in her eye, that reminded him of the stories of Queens and Champions of Old Wonderland.

And while he was certain that after this Tea Party he'd never see her again, he was equally certain that Underland had plans for this Alice girl.

* * *

><p>He'd sensed, once upon a time, that Underland had plans for the Mad Uplandish girl. But, he had to admit, he hadn't anticipated <em>this<em>.

The stubborn, proud, contrary chit who had once crashed his Tea Party was now a stubborn, proud, impossible Champion (though she refused the title). And tomorrow, she would slay the Jabberwocky that had decimated his entire clan.

No, Tarrant had not seen this coming.

Hadn't seen _her_ coming.

Startlingly pretty, wonderfully fierce, bloody _Impossible_ and completely fascinating… And fully convinced that Underland, her Destiny, and Tarrant were only figments of her imagination.

He wanted to point out that he couldn't possibly be a dream of hers, because he had continued living after she left and if he was a dream then surely he would have ceased to exist until she dreamed him up again. But somehow, he felt like she wouldn't believe his argument, would call it an Imagining's refusal to admit it wasn't real.

Stark raving bonkers, this Champion.

They stood on her balcony, staring out over Queen Mirana's gardens, until a chill breeze made silk-clad Alice shiver. Tarrant solicitously took her inside, biting back a smug remark that in a Dream she wouldn't be cold, and ushered her to a small tea table.

"A good cuppa and you'll be fit as a butcher's dog," he declared, his fingers delving into the tea supplies.

The selection wasn't anywhere near as inspiring as his stores, but he made do. Alice smiled, thanking him politely as she took the brew. And if her brow furrowed in confusion, her taste buds trying to ferret out why the blend tasted so familiar… Well, she'd just have to remember for herself, wouldn't she?

"A blend for clear thinking," he informed her, smiling mysteriously. "You look as though you need it."

* * *

><p>The Mad Hatter never bothered checking his pocketwatch; there was no use, Time being frozen for him. That was alright. He didn't need the time to know that lovely Alice was, once again, late to Tea.<p>

She had many fine qualities, His Alice. She was brave and muchy and strong and utterly Mad. Alas, she had as poor a grasp of Time as he.

Hatter clucked in disapproval as he poured the Alice blend he'd made just for her. He wasn't angry; he was used to her absence. He would wait. Wasn't he always waiting for her?

The Tea Table stretched away from him, stacked high with cup after cup of cold, molding teas. Alice had been gone for a very long time now, but that was alright. She would be back, Someday, and he would be right here, waiting for her.

Perhaps she was out looking for their wee lost bairn, and that was why she was missing Tea again. If that was the case, Tarrant didn't mind at all. Matter of fact, he should have a cup prepared for his Princess, just in case…

Tarrant sighed. "Come home, please," he whispered to his tardy wife and lost daughter.

* * *

><p>Alice huffed. Her ankles were swollen, her back ached, her breathing was constricted, and she was irritated with her husband for forcing her to exert herself.<p>

Still, there was no one else to handle these moments. The servants may run in fear when Alice was frumious, but when rumors flew that the Hatter was running Mad…

Alice shook her head in disappointment. She hadn't known her Court were such cowards.

At least it was easy to find him; just follow the sounds of raving and destruction. She winced when she observed his Workshop; oh, he would be so upset when he returned to himself. Bolts of fabric reduced to ragged scraps, worktable upended and one leg broken, and – perhaps worst of all – his tea service had been smashed to ruins.

Alice waddled forward, managing to catch her husband's fevered face between her cool hands. "Tarrant!"

He snarled, but then stilled as he registered her face. As she'd hoped, his shoulders slumped, his eyes dulling from that hateful topaz to a more manageable grey.

"Alice," he sighed wearily. "Ye shooldnae be oot ay bed. Th' doctur said-"  
>"You needed me," she silenced him.<p>

She guided him through the destruction to the remains of the tea table, huffing when Tarrant refused to let her help set the little corner to rights. Gently, she settled him in his armchair, then sat in his lap.

"What happened?"  
>Tarrant whimpered, resting his forehead against her shoulder. "Aam Mad, Alice."<br>She smiled. "I'm aware."  
>"Nae," he said urgently, clutching at her. "Ah mean, Aam <em>Mad<em>. An' Ah've doomed uir bairns tae th' same Madness. Uir _bairns_, an' Ah've ruined their lives." He bent his head in shame, his voice tremulous. "Can ye forgive me?"

This was a guilt Tarrant had suffered since their return from the Outlands, when they learned that Regina had endured her first true fit of Madness. His guilt had only grown when he learned that Alice was pregnant again. He hated seeing his daughter suffer, feared dooming their son to the same fate.

Biting her lip, Alice maneuvered herself to the ground, gingerly picking through the wreckage to find two only slightly chipped teacups, enough materials to make them tea. Catching Tarrant's skeptical eyebrow, she mock-glared.

"Hush," she commanded. "I'm English, I can manage to brew tea."  
>"If you say so, My Alice," he returned doubtfully.<p>

Several minutes later, tea in hand, Alice returned to Tarrant's lap.

"Tarrant my love, listen to me," she said softly. "Our children are Hightopps, with all that means. Good and bad. And I would never have it any other way. I love you, Tarrant Hightopp, and I wouldn't have any other man's children. And if that means we deal with a little Madness, then so be it."

The sigh seemed to come from Tarrant's soul as he buried his face in her neck. She didn't mind; she held him closer as he laid a hand over their child.

"We'll be fine, darling," she quietly promised him.


	15. The Dream Kingdom

**Author's Note**: Please see the end of the chapter for notes.

**Disclaimer**: I still haven't heard back from my beta, Ranguvar27, so I'm flying unbeta'd for the foreseeable future. All mistakes are mine.

* * *

><p>The Sun shone down, golden-bright and summer-fierce, bathing all the land with a perfect, hazy glow. The heat would be stifling if not for the brisk sea breeze, carrying the rose-like perfume of the Crimson Sea. There was music in the form of waves crashing on the beach, the call of gulls, and the laughter-filled conversation of the two people on the shore.<p>

In short, it was a picture-perfect dream of a summer's day.

Dafydd Hightopp, Queen's Champion, Ace of Hearts and Duke of Annwyn, was currently stripped of titles, sword, boots, and shirt. His muscled physique— worthy of a statue of Samson Regina had once seen in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London— was on full display, and benefitting mightily from the sun's attention. He'd be beautifully tanned by the end of the day and his hair would be bleached a lighter blond, both of which would make his already beautiful blue eyes stand out even more. Meanwhile, she being redheaded and Hightopp-pale would likely burn a rare shade of pink, and wake up tomorrow morning freckled. His customary hyper-vigilance had relaxed enough to allow him to enjoy himself; his smiles and laughter flowed freely as he leaned back on his elbows, surrounded by the remains of their picnic, a gilded pagan god brought back to life.

Regina Miraget Clava-Hightopp Praecordia, Queen of Hearts, fluttered around like the dearbadan-de Dafydd so often called her. Divested for once of her elaborate Court dresses and heavy jewelry, she was garbed in a whisper-light Regency-style gown of pale blue, her reddish-gold curls left wild and free (exactly as Dafydd secretly loved her hair).

Where Dafydd lounged at his leisure, Regina roamed the sandy dunes, searching the grasses for tiny white and blue forget-me-nots that she gathered in the skirt of her dress.

"What are you doing?" Dafydd asked, reaching for a greenberry and his goblet of wine.  
>Regina grinned, dropping beside him with a lapful of flowers. "I am making us flower crowns."<br>He quirked an eyebrow. "Haven't you already got a crown or two?"  
>She scoffed. "You must be thinking of some other Regina."<p>

He grinned, falling fully onto his back as she began braiding the flowers with quick, clever fingers. For a time they remained in peaceful silence, he basking in the sun and dozing while she hummed beneath her breath.

"There," she said, prodding him as she held up the products of her labors. "Sit up, let's see how you look."

Yawning lazily, he did as she said, accepting the crown she set on his head. When she moved to place her own crown, he stopped her.

"Allow me," he said, plucking the crown from her hands and gently placing it atop her dancing curls himself.

Regina sat very still, halfway in his arms and never wanting to be anywhere else. Dafydd didn't seem inclined to move either; he kept her caged within his limbs as he leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, one arm almost but not quite wrapping around her waist.

"You see that island?" he asked, his voice low in her ear.

She suppressed her shiver, sort of, and nodded when she saw the rocky island halfway to the horizon, absently tangling her fingers with his.

"One day," he informed her, tucking a wayward curl behind her ear, "I'll capture it for you. Spirit you away and keep you safe. You'll wear your flower crowns every day and I'll push your Council into the Sea if they try to bother you."

Regina giggled at the thought and absolutely did not lean back into Dafydd's chest.

"What shall we call our island?" she asked, leaning into him only a little so she could reach for her wine glass. "Haven?"  
>"No, that's Tearmunn," he negated. "What about Otherland?"<br>"That's another name for Oversea." Regina tilted her head. "Your stories about King Dafydd and Queen Aisling. What was their kingdom called?"  
>Dafydd's eyes narrowed in thought as he tried to remember. "Prydein, I think," he replied after a moment, pulling her hair to one side so it wouldn't blow in his face.<br>"Prydein," she murmured, looking out at their island and smiling.

_rap rap rap rap rap_

She started, her eyes darting around a landscape that had suddenly become barren and sepia, fading to grey at the edges.

"Dafydd?" she cried, her voice harsh and echoing over the empty, dead beach.

Blinking away the withered, disintegrating ashes of her flower crown, Regina ran to the very edge of the water, her heart crumbling in time with Prydein's cliffs as their island sank into the Sea.

"Dafydd! Where are you?" she cried, her words lost in an empty sea of nothing.

"Regina!"

She woke with a start, tears streaming from her eyes. For one disorienting minute, she stared around wildly, not recognizing her surroundings, until she saw the bars on the windows and it all came crowding back.

She was in Crims, in the North Tower of Isla Affalin. That red-faced, cross woman waiting impatiently with her breakfast tray was Regina's nursemaid, chosen by her Betrothed because she had the wherewithal to handle a Mad foreign Queen.

"Get up, slugabed," Nurse commanded briskly. "We must make you presentable before His Highness comes to visit."

Regina huddled in her pillows, drawing her arms around her knees in a weak attempt to protect herself from the cold fingers of Fear that lingered in the wake of her dream.

"Cold," she muttered, curling in on herself so the Loneliness had less room to grow. "Always sae cold, since Ah snuffed it th' fire. An' mo laoch has swum tae Prydein withit me an' lef' me aloyn wi' Jack."

She ignored Nurse's attempts to extricate her from the bed, instead burrowing down and pulling the covers over her head. Hang Nurse, anyways. Didn't she understand that the bed was the only warm place left to her? Cold comfort after dreaming of the warmth of Dafydd's arms. But maybe if she stayed in bed, the warmth of the covers would eventually seep into her frozen soul, and she'd finally feel warm again.

"Regina?"

She whimpered in response, rolling over to face Jack as he squatted beside her mattress, his stern face painted in lines of concern.

"Nurse tells me you've had a rough morning, my dove," he said, voice pitched low and soothing as though she were a child. "Will you tell me what's wrong?"  
>"Cold," she replied, her voice little and weak. "Aam sae cold, Jack."<br>"Come on, then," he said, standing. "We'll bundle you up before the fire, and you'll fix us some tea. That'll warm you right up."

She nodded acceptance, shying away from Nurse's hands and insisting Jack be the one to help her into her fur-lined robe and slippers. Soon enough, she had fixed them up a pot of tea while Jack, solicitous as ever, wiped her teacup clean with his handkerchief.

"It's no wonder you're so cold, having all these windows open," Jack said disapprovingly as they sat with their tea. "I'm surprised you haven't caught your death of a chill yet."

She watched docilely as he stood, abandoning his teacup to shutter the windows, closing out the pale, wintry sunlight. When he approached the window situated due north, however…

"Nae!" she yelped, clambering up and racing to block his way to the shutters. "Nae, ye main keep this one open."  
>"Why?" Jack frowned, laying his hands on her shoulders. "Most of the cold is coming through here-"<br>"Ah dornt caur. Ah main be able tae see it!" she insisted, stamping her slipper-clad foot.  
>"See what, my dear?" he pressed.<br>"Prydein!" she grinned, presenting the view of her rocky paradise with a flourish. "It's uir kingdom, mine an' his, an' we're th' only subjects. We wear flower crowns an' nae shoes an' he kicks mah Cooncil aff th' cliffs when they make me cross."

With a decisive nod, she turned her back on Jack and Nurse, while Jack turned to the caretaker with a raised eyebrow.

"Does she often speak like this?"  
>"Only on her bad days, Sire," Nurse replied. "Those have been coming often, lately."<p>

Jack's mouth showed concern, but there was a light in his eyes that suggested he was pleased by the report.

"My poor lady," he murmured. "Nurse, I really feel that we should wean her off this latest medication. It only seems to be making her Madness worse. Perhaps the Doctor can think of something else…"

Rolling her eyes, Regina tuned out their conversation, focusing all of her attention on the view out the window. Something wild in her heart calmed and settled when she saw her and Dafydd's island safe and whole, surrounded by an ocean of red and waiting for her. She could endure, she was sure of it; she could endure her harping Nurse and the lonely isolation of her Tower, the loss of her true love and the future she'd chosen, soon to be forever shackled to Jack as his wife.

As long as Prydein survived, so would she.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Note<strong>: I am so, so sorry. I've wanted to write a scene about Regina and Dafydd's day playing hooky at the beach for a long time, but I didn't intend for it to end up this sad. I have no idea how that happened.

Also, the statue Regina references is Giambologna's _Samson Slaying a Philistine_. Because both Gigi and I can totally see Dafydd picking up a random donkey jawbone and slaying people with it.


	16. Fade to Black - M

**Author's Note**: As the title suggests, this chapter slots in right after that fade to black moment at the end of Regina and Dafydd's scene in chapter one of Book Four. It should be obvious that this chapter is nothing more than pure, unadulterated PWP smut. You miss absolutely nothing of import if you decide not to read this. I kept it out of the Story Proper to maintain the series' T rating. I wrote several scenes like this because originally I wasn't sure exactly when the Prince of the Promise would be conceived (also, because Gigi and Dai started to mate like plot bunnies, it was ridiculous). I'll post the best of them here as I post their chapters; what with all the angst (past and future) I think we all deserve this.

**Warning**: The same disclaimers apply to this chapter as to chapter one of Book Four. Namely, that there is referenced drug use (in the form of Emotion Tea), and that while this is a scene of a sexual nature, one of the participants is not sober (or sane) and is thus unable to give true, informed consent to the proceedings. Which makes this scene, technically, dub-con. Please be careful of your triggers and/or squick if you choose to proceed.

**Special Thanks**: Many thanks to my wonderful beta Ranguvar27 for the encouragement regarding this chapter. I'm not a stranger to writing smut, but the twin issues of drug use and Regina's naivety were giving me problems, and I needed a beta's reassurance that the scene got across what I wanted.

* * *

><p>Boldly, she took his hand and led him to the bed, which had been prepared for the royal consummation with candles and rose petals. While enraged with the knowledge that this had all been prepared with Jack in mind, Dafydd did appreciate that someone (likely Clover and Azalea) had remembered that Regina was a romantic.<p>

"Shoods we blaw it th' candles?" Regina asked, threading her fingers together nervously.  
>"No," he negated, shaking his head as he cradled her face between his hands. "I want to see you."<p>

She bit her lip, smiling shyly. Weirdly, he was glad to see her nerves; in a strange way it affirmed that Regina was choosing this, not the Tea – or at least, not _just_ the Tea. If it had only been the Lust, she would have been ripping his clothes off by now. He caressed her face, smiling at her reassuringly as he removed her crown and heavy jewelry. He turned back to her, drawing her back into his arms as he sat them down, caressing her arms and back. He waited until he felt her beginning to relax before he leaned down to kiss her; hopefully the kiss would calm Regina, maybe even ease her from the Madness, as well as give her Lust-addled system something to focus on. He knew from experience that the longer the Tea raged through her veins, the more hyper-sensitive she would become, until any sensation at all would be painful. Best to keep her busy.

Well, he decided, if he was damning himself, he might as well do it thoroughly. He didn't know where their Ring was, but he didn't have time to look for it now. In any case, it didn't matter; Vows in Underland didn't require Rings to make them official.

"Blood of my veins," he said softly, twining his fingers with hers. "Air of my lungs. Seed of my body. Fire of my heart. All that I am, I put into your keeping. I bind myself to you, from now until Death parts us."

He smiled at her sadly, knowing the words of the Hightopp Joining Rite didn't mean much. They could never be truly wed and Blessed, not now that she belonged to Jack. But he had been Bound to her for years already; no harm in finally saying the words that might once have made them husband and wife in truth.

Regina opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a strangled choking sound. Swallowing, she tried again, with the same result.

"Ah cannae spick th' Vows back tae ye," she said sadly, her eyes sparkling with tears.  
>"I know, cariad," he soothed her, cradling her face. "It's not important."<p>

She shook her head in denial, frowning as she thought. A moment later her face cleared, and she grinned mischievously.

"Ah, Regina, tak' thee Dafydd tae be mah wedded husband," she said, her fingers trailing licks of flame along his face and neck. "Tae hae ain tae hauld, frae thes day forward, fur bettur fur worse, fur richer fur poorer, in sickness an' in health, tae love, cherish, an' tae obey, till death us dae part, accordin' tae God's holy ordinance; an' theretae Ah gife thee mah troth."  
>Dafydd frowned in confusion. "I thought you couldn't-?"<br>"Underandian vows, nae," Regina cut in, grinning at her cleverness. "Underlain cannae say anythin' abit Vows ay th' Abovegroond."  
>A slow smile grew over his face as he realized what that meant. "My wife," he breathed in wonder.<br>"Hello, husband," Regina giggled, her topaz irises greening a little. "Ur ye plannin' tae make thes official onytime suin?"

Grinning, he swooped in to crash his lips on hers. Fates, his _wife_. It didn't matter if no one else ever knew the truth; they were married. Bound for the rest of their lives, and Jack could do nothing about it.

And it was their wedding night. They had quite a lot to celebrate…

_Focus_, he chided himself. Regina was giving him an incredible gift; his task was to focus every ounce of his concentration on making this as perfect an experience as she deserved. She wanted a wedding night; she deserved to be worshipped by a man who loved her and knew how to please her. He was well versed in how to please a woman, and Regina would never find anyone who loved her more than he did. He could and would give her what she deserved— what _they_ deserved— from this night.

He knew exactly how to kiss her; he knew when to push her, when to tease her. But the Lust tea was an unknown entity, and he wasn't sure exactly how it was affecting her. He remembered what it did to him; an ever-building frenzy where every touch and kiss and movement drove him on in a despereate attempt to attain that final burst of ecstacy. If the Tea was affecting Regina similarly, he'd have to be very, very careful not to overstimulate her.

So he threw his attention into what he was doing, determined to ease the effects of the Tea, as well as to push all thought of anything and anyone but him from her mind. Jack might have claimed her, but she belonged to _him_, and he was going to make sure she never doubted it. He felt more than heard her sigh, and he clutched at her as she melted in his arms. Gently, he maneuvered them backwards, easing her down and supporting his weight on his forearms as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

Dafydd had this trick of trapping her, of assuring that she couldn't escape from his assault and leaving her with no choice other than to submit to him. She assumed this was a soldier's instinct at play, a need to entrap an enemy and keep them under control. Perhaps it should have felt frightening, stifling; instead, Regina loved it, reveled in the feel of his body against hers. She never felt safer than she did when Dafydd had her trapped between himself and some unyielding surface, and right now was no exception. True, the mattress was softer than a wall, but it was the same principle. She had been devoid of his protection for so long; too long. So she let herself sink into the bliss of this surrender, greedily drinking in the sensation of feeling safe for the first time in a very long time.

He'd always loved the sensation of their bodies pressed together, the sweet torture of straining to push ever closer to each other while their clothing kept them separated. But this time would be different; this time he could finally remove that barrier between them. This time, there would be nothing to stop them from joining completely. He pulled away from her, sliding his hands beneath her back and gently pulling.

"Up," he said, his voice low and gravelly.

She shuddered, his words sinking into her bones and sending a frisson of lightning through her veins. She had never heard him sound so growling and dangerous. Was this what passion did to him? She could very easily get used to him like this…

Was she even aware of how utterly seductive she looked, slowly rolling her spine up as she rose? The sight of that smooth undulation was entrancing, knocking the very breath from him. He'd always known that she'd be the death of him, but Fates, if she kept doing things like this she would make him spontaneously combust.

She braced her hands against the bed, her breathing shaky as Dafydd stared at her. His blue eyes blazed with intensity as he reached forward, twining the laces of her corseted bodice around his fingers. His gaze met hers, knocking the breath from her body as he slowly, torturously slowly, pulled on the strings to unlace her. She quivered every time his fingers brushed against her skin as he undid the hateful corset, and for the life of her she couldn't break his intense, passionate gaze, even though she was being burned alive by a sapphire flame.

He willed his fingers not to tremble as he finished untying the corset and slowly pulled the offending garment off of her, noticing her let loose a sigh of relief and draw a proper breath. Honestly, whose bright idea had this monstrosity of a red wedding dress been? Regina loathed red with a deep and abiding passion. And while Dafydd very much appreciated the way it highlighted her figure, she hated corsets about as much. This thing had to go, now. Regina shivered as her flesh was bared, reflexively raising her arms to cover herself, but Dafydd caught her hands, threading their fingers together as he stared at her bare chest.

"You're beautiful," he managed to choke out.

She blushed beneath his frank, hooded gaze. She wasn't quite prepared when he leaned forward, drawing one taut bud into his mouth, but she gasped at the sensation. She instinctively arched into his suckling, her head falling back as she held him close to her, whimpering at the feeling of his stubble against her heated, over-sensitive flesh. He groaned low in his throat, easing her onto her back again as he lavished her chest with attention. Regina whined, one hand tangling in his hair while the other fisted his tunic. She needed some sort of anchor against these sensations he was invoking in her, but at the same time she wanted to lose herself further to the sweet madness.

His fingers brushed over a rough, raised patch of skin on her side. He paused in his ministrations, swallowing hard, and while he didn't stop full force, the urgency of his need did abate in the face of what he knew he had just discovered. He pulled away from her slowly, clenching his jaw tight as he slowly dared a glance down.

He had always known about the scar that Regina carried on her left side. It was a token from the Outlands, a knife wound she had sustained at the hands of his cousin Taran, whom she had later killed. The scar had only partially healed; it still reacted to her emotional imbalances, aching and hurting her when she was in a similar state of stress as when the wound had been inflicted. He had always known that. But he had never seen the scar before. Fates, it was worse than he had imagined; raised, mottled, and a defiant shade of red-purple. If he didn't know any better, he would think that the wound was still fresh. She must have been under a terrible amount of stress lately, if the scar looked this angry.

Her fingers slid under his chin, redirecting his gaze back up to her face, and she shook her head.

"Dornt," she said softly. "Dornt blam yerself. Aam braw. Ah dornt wanna hink abit it tonecht."

Swallowing hard, he nodded, leaning up to kiss her again before impatiently yanking off his tunic in one quick motion and hissing as that aggravated his tender shoulder. She sat up again, tentatively touching his skin and shivering at how heated his flesh was; it was like he was on fire, too. Was she making him burn the way he was setting her aflame? She rather liked the thought of that, wanted to preen at the idea that she— small, birdlike Regina, not that hateful, beautiful Afanen— could drive Dafydd to this same kind of madness.

Dafydd shivered beneath her fingers, forcing himself to remain still as she explored. When her hands stilled, he closed his eyes briefly, knowing she couldn't have missed the impossibly dark bruise on his shoulder.

"Dai," she breathed, her voice thick with concern. "Whit in th' nam ay Absolem-"  
>He shook his head, covering her hands in his. "You can't worry either," he said thickly. "I'm fine."<p>

Now was not the time to think about how utterly damned he was for lying to her.

She leaned forward and pressed a careful, gentle kiss to the bruise, and that was when his control wavered. He tangled his fingers in her stupidly elaborate hairdo again, thoroughly ruining her coiffure. Her hair didn't seem to object; in fact it seemed quite pleased to shed hairpins left and right and to fall around Regina's shoulders in reckless abandon, just the way he liked it. He sighed in approval, gently forcing her head back and sealing his mouth over hers more fully. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and at her slightest tug they toppled back onto the mattress, both shuddering at the sensation of flesh against flesh, each concealing a grimace of pain to prevent the other from worrying about what couldn't be healed.

Dafydd was well aware that kissing Regina was now the only way to cure of him his worst Madness, but he was fairly certain that kissing her was _causing_ his Madness. He had never felt like this with anyone before; never felt like he was drowning and burning all at once with no hope of being saved. He'd been with his fair share of women, but it had never been like _this_ before; Madness and maelstroms and magic. And the longer he kissed her, the more he drank of the Lust from her lips. It was affecting him too; a weak echo of the frenzied drive he remembered and whi ch he was sure Gia must be feeling about now. Time to stop stalling, before he tipped the scales from pleasurable to torturous.

Before he'd even realized that he'd moved, he had untied her heavy skirts and bunched them in his fist, nearly ripping them off her legs. He forced himself to break away from her again, tenderly freeing her tiny, slender feet from the stiff red leather heeled boots she'd been wearing, and the silken red striped stockings. He kissed his way back up her legs, relishing each goosebump and shiver, before pausing at her lacy, frothy pantaloons.

"You're sure, dearbadan-de?" he whispered, trailing a single finger along the waistband.

She nodded silently, robbed of breath and speech. He leaned down, kissing her gently as he slowly slid her knickers off, carelessly tossing them over his shoulder. He lowered himself on top of her again, and she shuddered, her hyper-sensitive skin prickling at the sensation of feeling him against her. The fire licked through her veins again, so fiercely it made her dizzy. Fates, she _wanted_.

He slid his hand up her leg, sliding up higher and then higher yet before finally stroking her core, testing to see how ready she was. She gasped, tensing and freezing up, and he immediately withdrew, pulling back to evaluate her face.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked.  
>"Nothin'," she immediately said, shaking her head to clear it of the insistent fires that he'd been so expertly stoking. "It's just…" She cleared her throat, blushing deeply. "Yoo're jist mah first, an'… Ye startled me, that's aw. Ahm alrecht."<br>He stroked his knuckles against her cheek gently, pecking at her lips. "Tell me when you're ready."  
>"Ah am ready," she assured him.<p>

He nodded, kissing her again before stroking her more purposefully. The hitch in her breath made him shudder, and it took a lot of effort to concentrate on her, to learn what responses he could coax out of her. He groaned softly when he felt her getting wetter; the Tea was clearly serving its purpose for her, and he couldn't wait much longer.

There was so much he wanted to do and to show her. But he didn't have the time, and curse… just… everything for that fact. It was only a matter of time before Jack came up to claim his prize (now there was a thought to set his teeth on edge), and if he caught the two of them in bed there would be hell to pay. With a silent apology to Regina for the pleasures she'd have to remain innocent of (for now) and a silent promise to make it up to her (many, _many_ times), he eased away, wrestling with his breeches with trembling fingers.

Regina had been breathless before, but as her eyes raked over Dafydd she was thrown into a breathlessness so profound she felt she might literally pass out. She mustn't pass out now; this was far too important to miss. She had seen him without his tunic before, when he was out on the grounds training with the Fearail, but to see the beauty of his entire nude body… he was magnificent. And he was _hers_.

He forced himself to stay still under her scrutiny, but it was difficult. He'd never really been that self-conscious, but then again, no one's opinion had mattered as much as hers. Did she like what she saw? Was he enough? Then she looked him in the eye, and all his doubts were swept away. He knew the look in her eye, and it filled him with a fierce surge of masculine pride and ego. She _wanted_ him. And he was hers, totally and completely; he'd give her anything she wanted without a moment's hesitation.

"Make me yoors, Dai," she demanded, her voice low.

He groaned. He hadn't thought it was possible to get any harder, but there was that theory thrown out the window…

He kissed her harshly, twining their limbs together and sinking into the softness of her body. He aligned himself with her opening, pausing as he braced his hands on either side of her head. He searched her eyes, gratified to see that the hateful topaz of her Madness was mingling with and being tempered by the molten gold color that belonged to him.

"This might be uncomfortable at first," he told her softly. "But it shouldn't hurt. Stop me if I hurt you, cariad."  
>She nodded, reaching up to trace his jaw. "I troost ye," she whispered.<p>

He drew a deep, steadying breath. Careful, careful; as powerful as Lust Tea was, it wouldn't completely ameliorate discomfort, and he couldn't countenance hurting her. But _brimini_, it was difficult to keep control as he slid home. She was hot and tight and _perfect_ and he just wanted to _move_ but no… no, this wasn't about him, stay in control…

"Are you alright?" he managed to choke out, pressing desperate kisses to her jaw and neck to give him something else to focus on beside the _need_.

Regina drew a couple of shaky breaths before nodding slowly, her nails digging cresents of stinging pleasure-pain into his shoulders. Dafydd kissed her again, summoning every last shred of his self-control. He could do this; for her he could hold back, could wait until she was comfortable again. He held her close, kissing her as tenderly as he could under the circumstances, until he felt her relaxing beneath him. He was careful, at first; slow, shallow thrusts to get her used to his size. She began to respond; shy shifting of her hips at first, then more determined movements as they established their rhythm and as the Lust Tea did its job.

He groaned into her ear, telling her how beautiful she was, how good she felt, how much he loved her. He knew that her reactions were being fueled by Tea, but this was still the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and he reveled in the knowledge that he had done this to her. He thrust deeper and harder, crushing her into his arms as he branded her as his. She cried out softly, clinging to him, her nails digging into his back.

"Dai, I… I can't… I need… I don't…" she babbled, teetering on the edge of something bigger and more beautiful than she could understand.  
>"Come undone for me, Gia," he muttered, nipping at her neck. "Fall with me."<p>

She melted; she dissolved; she flew.

And he never left her. She couldn't remember her own name, but she could feel her Beloved there, within the depths of her soul and the deepest, most hidden parts of her, joining them into one being as he followed her down into oblivion.

"I love you," he whispered.  
>"Ah love ye, ma taavi," she returned, weakly winding her arms around him. "Sae much."<p> 


	17. Comings and Goings

**Author's Note**: This chapter exists mostly out of self-indulgence. There were a couple of small story threads that I had dropped from the Story Proper – mostly getting Briallen to safety in the wake of Dafydd's exile, and Alice and Tarrant finding out about the depth of abuse Regina suffered. I had no room to tie those threads up in the Story Proper, and so this chapter came to be.

I'm not entirely happy with it, both in terms of story and in terms of structure. Story-wise, I don't think I really achieved what I wanted to, especially with Gigi's conversation with her parents. Structurally, I was borrowing bits and snippets from previous drafts of the story, and that's always a messy process. So I think this chapter reads very rough and unfinished. However, here it is.

**Chapter Warnings**: Allusions to marital rape. It's brief, and it's danced around in typical Victorian English fashion, but it is there.

**Special Thanks**: Many thanks to my wonderful beta Ranguvar27 for muddling through this chapter and assuring me that it works just fine. I don't know if I fully believe that, but I will happily accept the lie until it feels like truth.

* * *

><p>Rhys frowned as Duff strode out of the inn toward the stable, clearly a man on a mission.<p>

"Captain?" he called, frowning. "Are we leaving?"  
>"Not yet," Duff replied in his typical terse way. "Maintain order until I return. The King is sending me to Annwyn."<br>"To Annwyn?" Rhys blinked, his frown deepening. "Why?"  
>"Because he's King," Duff said gruffly.<p>

Rhys bit back his frustration with Jack's faithful lackey, if only because Duff sounded as frustrated with the King as he ever allowed himself to get. He held his tongue, stepping back and letting the Captain continue to the stable that housed his steed, a simply ludicrously large Chicken named Lucille.

Now why would Jack want to check in on Annwyn? As far as anyone at Court knew, Dafydd had retired to his estate after the Suitors' Joust, living quietly among his vineyards and beehives. Jack had never shown the least bit of interest in Dafydd's whereabouts before, so why…?

Unless…

Did Jack suspect Dafydd of being behind the sudden rash of bad luck that had followed him since Regina had fallen ill? Or was striking against Dafydd done in order to intimidate Gigi? Not that it was an especially effective threat, what with Gigi still bedridden in Marmoreal, but still.

All in all, it was a very odd situation, and Rhys didn't quite know what to do about it.

Sighing, he walked into the inn's kitchen, pasting a grin onto his face to charm some biscuits out of the Cook. But upon entering the kitchen, his grin fell, dampened by the palpable tension in the air. The source seemed to be the hearth, where the Cook was berating the scrappy ragamuffin Rhys had seen antagonizing Jack earlier.

"Have you lost your head, Lem?" she screeched. "Your rashness puts us all at risk. Your pa and his precious Toolbox above all!"  
>"I'm sorry!" Lem said defiantly. "But I couldn't just do nothin'!"<br>"Yes you could! That's exactly what you should have done! Nothing!" his mother yelled.  
>"Excuse me, madam," Rhys cut in, "but would you happen to have any nails? I've none in my toolbox."<p>

Lem's eyes grew wide, and he gasped in excitement. His mother's face, however, grew cold and closed.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said tightly. "I don't keep Tools about."  
>Lem's face fell. "But Mum-"<br>"Lem, show the man out," Cook said through clenched teeth.

The boy huffed but obeyed, motioning for Rhys to follow him out.

"I'm sorry 'bout Mum, Sir," he said once they were outside. "We're Queen's men, my da an' me, but Mum worries."  
>"As well she should," Rhys replied. "These are dangerous times for all of us. 'Sides, it's a mum's job to worry, especially when her boy crosses path with the King."<br>"He wouldn't do nothin'," Lem scoffed. "An' the Toolbox would help, if I did get in trouble."  
>"Have a care, boy," Rhys warned. "The Toolbox can't be everywhere at all times, and the King will punish disrespect."<p>

Then he paused, suspicion building as he recalled the Cook's words.

"Boy… what did you say to the King?" he asked.  
>"Nothin'!" Lem protested. "Jus' that the Queen an' the Carptenter'll run 'im outta town soon enough."<p>

A truly foul curse left Rhys' mouth as he spun on his heel and sprinted for his horse.

Well, at least that explained Jack's sudden interest in the goings-on at Annwyn.

As quickly as Rhys had taken off running, that was how suddenly he stopped. He didn't dare hare off to Annwyn. The Albion would notice, and Rhys couldn't draw attention to himself. His value to Dafydd was being the man inside the hostile organization; he couldn't jeopardize that position.

But neither could he leave Briallen ignorant of the danger even now riding toward her. He didn't know what Duff might do when he found out that Dafydd wasn't at home, but the man had been a criminal before being drafted into Jack's service. Rhys wouldn't put anything past him. He had to warn her; think, _think_!

Rhys jumped as a heavy weight landed on his shoulder, then sighed in relief, berating himself for a fool as he adjusted his falcon's weight on his arm. This was it, the obvious answer; he'd send her a message through the air. Chickens weren't fast animals; if he hurried, Bri should have enough time to clear out of Annwyn and be out of harm's way.

Rummaging through his pockets for parchment and pencil, he hurried to compose a note in a garbled version of the former Nazari's old communication code, then sent it off with his falcon with a whispered prayer that they had enough time.

_Bri—_

_The Red King's hunting for the ceann-fine. He's playing his Cards and using his Ace in the hole._

_Chess retreat to the Queen's square. Banríons should stick together._

* * *

><p>He woke up slowly, shifting until he registered the slight weight pinning him to the mattress. Yawning, Dafydd stilled, pressing a kiss to the crown of Regina's head. For a long moment he luxuriated in the feel of her in his arms; Fates, he'd missed this. They hadn't spent every night in each other's bed before the Joust, but he'd always slept better beside her.<p>

She felt better this morning, he thought; not as stiff or cold as she'd been in those first few hours after she woke in Marmoreal. Their recent… _activities_… must have finally broken the last vestiges of the Chill, which could only be counted a positive, no matter how often his mathair rolled her eyes at them.

Yawning again, he cracked open his eyes, gently stroking Regina's bare back as he glanced around the room. The surfaces were all cluttered, teacups and the remains of more than one meal mingling with his mathair's herbal remedies and healer's tools. Gwynyth had been working ceaselessly for days to nurse Regina back into a somewhat-stable equilibrium, as she had remained frail and weak since waking up. Dafydd appreciated it, considering how obviously disdainful his mathair had been toward his wife for years now. He was more than glad that that mess seemed to finally be behind them.

He didn't really want to leave the bed (naked wife), but he was hungry, so he gently eased out from beneath Regina, tucking the covers around her before turning to look for his pants.

Of all the good things about convalescing in Tearmunn, the best by far was that nobody bothered pretending that Regina and Dafydd weren't lovers. So long as they were moderately discreet about it, the worst censure they had to endure was Alice's not-entirely-approving Looks (and honestly, Dafydd had become so used to those over the years that he was basically immune). He knew this wouldn't last forever, but he would enjoy it for every moment he got.

Once he was clothed, he headed downstairs, absently massaging his stiff left shoulder. After awakening in Marmoreal, he had healed rapidly, but that wasn't to say that he'd escaped his brush with Death unscathed. The jagged shards of his broken heart had left an ugly, mottled scar on his flesh, and his torn and mangled muscles were still tender. It hurt to use his shoulder for anything, but he knew full well that if he didn't use it, it would heal stiff and useless, and he'd barely have any use of his left arm. So, despite how it made him grimace in pain, he gently put his arm and shoulder through their paces, trying to stretch out the stiffness.

He walked into the kitchen, then stopped short, blinking in confusion.

"Briallen?"

His sister-in-law looked up from the cup of tea Gwynyth had set before her, relief bursting over her lovely face as she set the baby down on the floor and rushed to him.

"Dafydd, thank goodness," she sighed, hugging him. "You look terrible."  
>"Death will do that," Gwynyth agreed dryly, reaching out to smack him upside the head when he stuck his tongue out at her. "Don't you sass your mathair."<br>"What are you doing here?" Dafydd asked as Briallen withdrew. "Is everything alright?"  
>Biting her lip, Briallen shook her head. "King Jack's Champion stormed Annwyn, looking for you," she said. "When he couldn't find you, he declared you an outlaw and claimed the house and lands for the King."<p>

Dafydd bit off a curse. He probably should have expected this. He and Jack had been poking at each other since the Suitors' Joust. The mounting tensions had only been escalating since Regina fell Mad; it was only a matter of time until it exploded into open war.

The news that he'd lost his duchy hit him surprisingly hard. Dafydd had been a nomad all his life, until he came into Regina's service; Annwyn had been the first piece of land to ever be his. He hadn't cared all that much about the title or the privileges that came with it, but the land? He loved his land. He loved his vineyards, his clover and lavender patches, the beehives. Annwyn had been his means of supporting his sister-in-law and nephews, thereby fulfilling the oath he'd given Niall before his brother died. To be told that all of it was stripped from him, that he was left with nothing?

It wasn't the first thing he'd get revenge for. But it was definitely on the list.

"You're alright, you and the baby?" he asked, turning back to his sister and forcing his mind back to the topic at hand. "Duff didn't hurt you?"  
>Briallen shook her head. "Rhys managed to send me word in time to get out," she said. "Madoc got us here safely."<br>"Good," Dafydd sighed in relief.

He grinned as the sturdy, gentle wolfhound padded into the kitchen, sinking to the floor to pet his Dog.

"That's my good boy," he murmured, scratching behind Madoc's ears. "Told you that you were lucky. I should keep you here with me, I'm gonna need all the luck I can get."  
>"I'll stay with you, Master," Madoc promised, wagging his tail as he snuffled into Dafydd's neck.<p>

Standing, Dafydd sighed, scrubbing his face with his free hand as he rested the other on Briallen's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Bri," he apologized. "I didn't mean for you to be tangled up in all of this."  
>One corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. "We all feel the effects when the high and mighty play the game of thrones."<br>"Where will you go?" Dafydd asked, bitterness creeping into his voice as he realized that he couldn't offer to protect her now.  
>As if sensing his thoughts (she probably had; she was good at that), she squeezed his forearm. "We're going to stay with Mathair until you get Annwyn back," she said, glancing at Gwynyth. "We'll be fine, Dai. Don't worry about us."<br>"Can't promise that," he said with a grim smile. "But I'll get our home back."  
>"I know you will," she nodded.<p>

* * *

><p>As he prepared their tea, Tarrant's lips lifted in a satisfied smile. It had been a very long time since his entire family had been seated around their Tea Table; it was lovely to be all together once again. His Teacup was in her proper place on his right side, passing their Sugar Cube a plate of scones while (unsuccessfully, it must be admitted) trying to overcome their Buttered Scone's restless fidgets. A proper tea set, and all was right with Tarrant's world.<p>

Well, Tarrant amended as he cast a worried glance at Regina, perhaps not all was right. Regina, while awake from her coma and able to walk short distances, was still very weak after her encounter with Death. The Chill seemed to have permanently turned her halfway to ice; her lovely red-gold curls were liberally streaked white, and her already-pale skin had turned almost as white as Mirana's. Her core body temperature had been low since her first episode of Chill, but now her skin was positively chilly, and if she got the least bit anxious she was wracked with violent shivers. The only time she seemed at all like her old self was when Dafydd was near, but since moving them to Tearmunn Dafydd had quickly healed and was spending a good deal of his time with his mathair and sister-in-law. Regina didn't begrudge him that, of course, but Tarrant sort of did.

All in all, Tarrant did not relish the prospect of Regina returning to her home in Crims. It seemed far more sensible (and much safer) for her to remain here, where he and Alice could keep her out of trouble and safe from harm.

Regina sighed with pleasure as her cold fingers cradled around the hot cup of tea. "I've missed your tea, Da. Your brews are the only ones that get me warm enough."  
>Tarrant smiled sadly. "I'm glad I can do that much for you, my wee boy."<p>

Regina bit her lip, understanding what he was obliquely referring to. His Alice, bless her soul, charged into the topic with all of her usual (bull in a china shop) delicacy.

"I wish you wouldn't go back, darling," she said. "You've been so unhappy lately, and with the Tea poisoning…"  
>Regina flinched, staring down into her teacup. "I know, Mama," she said, her voice quiet and low. "But I have to go back."<br>"But _why_?" Alice pressed.

Tarrant caught Alice's eye, and they had a silent conversation in one long look. It seemed like they had had some version of this same conversation every day since Regina woke up in Marmoreal. They wanted to help their bairn, but they knew so very little about what was wrong. Regina hadn't said a word about the state of her marriage since their Binding. Alice and Tarrant knew that their daughter wasn't happy, but just how badly had everything gone?

Biting her lip, Alice took Regina's hand, gentling her tone. "Tell us what's wrong, pet," she beseeched. "Let us help you."  
>At that, Regina deflated even further, curling in on herself like a broken doll. "Oh, Mama," she sighed deeply. "Everything. It's all gone wrong."<br>"We'll fix it, precious," Tarrant promised, stroking back the stubborn curls that had sprung out of her braid.  
>"Of course we will," Alice said encouragingly. "Between three Champions, this trouble doesn't have a leg to stand on."<p>

Regina bit her lip, her eyes brimming with tears. In an instant, Tarrant scooped his precious wee boy into his arms, rocking her as her shoulders shook with soft sobs. Alice scooted her chair closer, leaning in to envelope Regina from behind. Even Abraxas whimpered, his face crumpling before he squirmed out of his chair and toddled over to squirm into the family hug.

"No cry, Rena," he commanded, hugging her fiercely. "I here. No cry."

A broken laugh escaped Regina as she settled her brother on her lap, but her tears didn't stop as she leaned her head on Tarrant's shoulder.

"It wasn't so bad, at first," Regina began hesitantly. "I hadn't really wanted to throw the Joust, but when it was over I thought that perhaps Jack and I could be happy."  
>"If you didn't want the Joust, why throw it?" Alice asked.<br>Regina shook her head helplessly. "Dafydd and I were such idiots," she said ruefully. "I was convinced he didn't care for me. And even if Madam Rhonwen and… and Leferidae… weren't as pushy about it as Baron Vulpez, they all seemed to agree that I should find a husband," she related, her voice skipping a bit over the name of her deceased Guardian.  
>"You really thought Dafydd didn't love you?" Tarrant asked, shaking his head in amused wonder. "Silly thing, you're the sun in his sky."<br>"Well, yes, it all seems obvious in retrospect. Stupid, really," she admitted. "But neither of us could see past our own hearts into each other's, so."  
>"So you threw a Suitors' Joust, and Jack came," Alice said.<br>"And Jack came," Regina nodded. "I was resigned, I guess. But then Ioan sent word that Dafydd was dying-"  
>"What?" Tarrant interrupted.<br>Regina frowned. "Oh, did I never tell you?" At her parents' mystified denials, she continued. "Dafydd was poisoned during his final duel with Jack. His wine was laced with poppy juice, which he's allergic to. He nearly died," she said, shuddering with dread at the notion.  
>"The two of you are developing quite a bad habit of tempting Death," Alice said dryly.<br>Regina smiled ruefully. "I went to Annwyn to see him, and… well. We finally got everything sorted and settled," she said bashfully.  
>"And about time," Tarrant said emphatically. "Is that when he asked you to marry him?"<p>

Tarrant glanced at Alice, wincing when he saw her stunned expression. Tarrant wasn't sure how much Alice knew about Regina and Dafydd's romance, aside from the fact that they shared a bed. Certainly Tarrant had never revealed their secret Betrothal to her. It was entirely possible that until this moment, Alice hadn't realized just how committed to each other Regina and Dafydd were.

Regina blushed a rosy red, nodding shyly before continuing her tale. "I decided to look for a legal precedent that would allow me to break my Betrothal to Jack, so that I could marry Dafydd. Leferidae was helping me. And that's…" she swallowed hard. "That's the last thing I remember very clearly for a long time."

Alice and Tarrant's eyes met over their daughter's head as they both realized what she was avoiding saying.

"Once I fell Mad…" Regina continued, her voice less steady now that they were entering the part of the story that even she didn't really know, "Jack… he stopped pretending, I suppose. He'd been introducing changes to the Court since our Betrothal, but once I was Mad… It was only natural that I should be locked away in the North Tower for my health and safety. Only right that he should take over. We were to be married; he was Royal; it made sense that he should take up the reigns. Devilishly clever, really," she mused. "A bloodless coup."  
>"What then?" Tarrant asked, almost afraid to hear more.<br>"Then we were Blessed," Regina said dully. "Jack told me he'd heard the rumors about me and Dafydd. I… They weren't true," she said suddenly, furrowing her brow in distress. "I knew what the Court believed me, but it wasn't true. Not… not until the night Jack and I were wed. I… Oh, Mama," Regina whispered, embarrassed. "I'm afraid you're going to be horribly disappointed in me."  
>"Never," Alice promised fiercely, taking her daughter's hands.<br>"Dafydd came back, the night Jack and I were Blessed," she said hesitantly. "He was going to take me away. But he was too late to stop the Blessing Vows. We… We sort of… We spoke our own Vows," she said in a small, meek voice.  
>"You're married?" Alice exclaimed, startled, trading astonished glances with Tarrant.<br>"Sort of," Regina admitted. "I'm honestly not sure if it really counts, because I spoke the Aboveground vows, and it was after Jack's and my Blessing, but…"  
>"But in all the ways that matter, you and Dafydd are Bound and Blessed," Tarrant finished.<br>"Yes," she said. "And before Jack left our Blessing Ball, Dafydd and I… we…"

Tarrant cleared his throat, shifting uneasily as he fought to keep his breath even. Besides the fact that he was clearly in the way of an intimate mother-daughter discussion, he was feeling the sudden, surprisingly strong urge to go find Dafydd and throttle him. Perhaps with a ribbon… And after Dafydd had promised not to marry Regina in secret, too. Oh, was that boy in for a stern talking-to…

Alice drew a long, slow breath, trying desperately to maintain composure. Oh, what a mess this all was. No wonder Regina had collapsed under the stress of it all.

"Jack promised, that… that night… that if he ever found out I'd seen Dafydd again, he would bring me Dafydd's head," Regina said, her voice wavering in fear. "And I… I've tried. I truly have. But I... It doesn't work," she continued, sounding near to tears again. "I can't do the things Jack wants, and every time he tries to touch me, I… He's so… I mean, I know my duty, I know his rights, but he's…" She choked out a sob. "The night I… in Marmoreal, Lily's Queenmaking… He'd just… We'd… When he was finished, he told me that he knew I'd seen Dafydd and that he would have Dafydd executed."  
>Alice's eyes widened in sudden suspicion. "Regina, he doesn't… Surely Jack doesn't <em>force<em> himself on you?"

Regina didn't answer in words, but her bowed head and sagging shoulders were more than answer enough. Alice inhaled sharply, glaring daggers, and Tarrant found himself in perfect agreement with her. That slurvish urpal slackish scrum had done _what_ to his daughter?!

"No," Alice said sharply, sliding her fingers beneath Regina's chin and gently forcing her head up so their gazes locked. "You are not going back to him, Regina Miraget Clava-Hightopp."  
>"But-" Regina started.<br>"_No_," Alice cut her off again, shaking her head. "He is blaming you for his own failings as a husband. Lovemaking is a beautiful, joyous thing, Regina. You've learned that, thank the Fates," she said, blushing just as deeply as her daughter was. "That's what it should always be. It shouldn't be painful or humiliating or a source of pain for you. If Jack is being cruel to you, I will not allow you to return to that castle."

Regina looked up at her mother, and both Alice and Tarrant were surprised at the cold, steel determination in her eyes as she answered.

"I must," she said simply.  
>"But why?" Tarrant exclaimed, clutching at his precious child.<br>Regina kept her gaze pinned on Alice. "Do you remember, Mama?" she asked, her voice now calm and hopeless and inevitable. "Do you remember how it felt, to be a Mad and broken Queen, and separated from the one thing that could fix you?"

Alice sucked in a sharp breath, and Tarrant stilled in realization. Fates, he hadn't even thought… He had never made that connection before. Alice and Regina had both been broken, gone Mad and cast adrift from their queendoms and the source of their power and Royal Authority. Alice had fought tooth and nail to bring Witzend back to prosperity; of course her daughter would want the same for Crims.

"I don't love Jack, and I don't want to go back to him," Regina said, sounding every inch the Queen she was. "But I _must_ return to Crims. And if the price of saving Crims is being married to Jack, then that is the price I must pay."

Alice released a slow, heavy sigh, and Tarrant heard capitulation in the sound.

"Alright, darling," she acquiesced. "We'll get you well again, so you can go home."

Tarrant felt a great sorrow settle into his heart as he watched mother and daughter embrace. Of course he encouraged his dear girl to save the queendom she so loved. But the idea that she must surrender the love of her life to do it? Everything in him rebelled at the notion that the Queen of Hearts should have to abandon hers.

But what else could be done?

* * *

><p><strong>Additional Author's Note<strong>: Words cannot describe how irked I am with Tarrant for spilling the beans about Gigi and Dai having been married. I wanted to keep that from Alice for a while longer, but he just up and blabbed it all. Impatient, impossible Mad man…

I'm going to be absent for a few weeks, lovelies. My fabulous beta is prepping an anthology for publication (squee! A million congratulations!), and thus will be unavailable until after that's finished. So I'm going to take a brief vacation from this story until the beginning of June.


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